Do you remember? what you have done to that body?
You are still aware to remember.
Poet, infamous poet,
Your feather never wrote something so vile

That body... its grave violated by you
Under the darkness of the night you led it,
On gallop, to the solar of the family

In that night, there was no moonlight
You thought of being safe, after all the attic...
Do you remember what you have done?
You made love to that cold body, dead body!
Thirsty, thirsty of sensuality and madness!

And after that, still trembling and excited,
You took that old white weapon,
Still shining the sharp edge
Destroying the body piece by piece,
Yes, you had to do it
What feelings have you tasted in that moment?
Which emotions have you tasted in that moment?

You thought of throwing the pieces in the fire...
To fire! amused by that, you didn’t notice
The light coming closer...

A woman’s shout was heard...
Afraid and furious you rose,
Moving towards the intruder
It was the poor maid...

She let the light fall from her hands,
She has also fallen to the ground.
She was the maid...
You hurt her with your sharp sword

You lift the light still lit,
Looking at that pale face, without expression
And she was the maid...

And you decide to write
These blaming words,
With your own blood,
Blood of your own wrist cut by yourself
With the same sharp edge that
Put an end to your love...

Now your tragedy is written in red
In the words of the cuserd black metal book
Forever and ever your madness will be readed
In the dark chapter of insanity

Is too late to coming back, poet...
Well come to hell
Your destiny is sealed in fire
Sealed as the grave of the mind,
Once you loved pain
Remorse, guilty and death...