It was a passing fancy of the heart,
When the red blood converges and resists
The purge in a direction you inspire.
The heart has a pink flavor
We must digest with all our souls.
The real heat concentrates and expels us,
Like a real village of the united spirit.
One heart is apt to discover truth
In a world we deliver from the mind
That philosophers call a region of the brain.
Once the nagging thoughts ridicule me
I remark with sophistication on those who
Possess odors of perfume and music.
It was fancy of the inner life
That drove me to flowers and life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem