[Carlos / Juan / Andre C. M. Mendes]
As soon as tears fall, poetry sings a song,
Body strains the drops and gives them
World stops around: no sound, cheers no long,
Whirlwind insults "la Petit Mort", signs of dearth.
Your bright eyes
reveal traces of light
Contempling the tears in the tarnished face ( that ):
Altough may be deformed, shows authentic sights
weakness and defeat by frustation and grace.
Sweet young lady, "Liaisons" decorate your beauty-dress
"Broderies" fasten your
It is me who dresses you and, within myself, I own your cloth.
But she will fade as mortality
Clothes are now "noir", long black retails of the song.
A bitter drop drains the sad leaf
as tears fall!