Thick twilight leaps
Into the dead of night.
What did you expect?
Another daybreak straight?
Right. Nothing is unbreakable.

All things are creeping round
Making circles and cycles,
From the dust here to dust there --
A perishable transformation
Of one thing into its opposition
To melt again and to escape
From the square walls of jail,
Turning oneself from the humus
Into the springtime blooming.

Yes, life as it is, a closed chain
Of transformations which
Send me regularly the points
Of my ultimate destination.
I comprehend the events' chain,
Composing my poems and verses,
Linking them tightly into the nets
And leaving the loose ends for escape.

Having connected them all
Into a solid network, I catch from
The ocean of opportunities and fails
My loves and woes that make the content
Of the world we linger in. What can we do
If there's nothing else? . . So long as
We are bestowed on with our corporal bodies,
All what we have to do is to compose good wording.