In the image of my mind
rises a Golgotha
a fearless hurricane
in the middle of evil.
I'm talking to you about this gloom
about the inevitable of mourning
and I lean the image
in the mirror of your world.
You hold a spear in your hand
you dive it in your heart
and in the picture you throw myrrh
of spring.
You write in the caption with your blood
"Omnia vincit amor"
the Love wins everything,
wins the death and the uprooting.