My breath to you, my nature, my lost reality,
Mother, fading away under the pretext, whose name was twisted by the word of God,
Whose joy is in the glow of dawn, whose caress in the leaves in the wind,
You are an acquaintance and a farewell verse of the poet, and, inspired only by you, I am circling in verse.
My breath to you, whom they dared to forget, my lost reality.
Mad whistle of a blizzard, old women of a pale lock of winter
And the silence of the night forest, a symbol of the eternity of the moon,
My breath to you, under the sound of the spring, when you woke up breathing,
And the first birds are duets in love, whose song your soul gives birth to us.
To you my breath, given by you,
Dawn and the first storm for you,
To you our rare pulse of sunset
Harbingers of dawn on the path of the end
