My young blood is boiling
In this end of february,
And it feels rustleing, gently breezing
The coming of the green turning.
My right temple is swallowed by a sweet pain,
That invites me at a passionate tango
Turning me, deeply looking in my eyes,
Waiting to discover my vergin shallowness.
My smile, like a winter tale
Whispered at the fire side
Foresees the gush of greenery
Above the red of my blood.
I hardly can to keep carring the heart,
Ranked by proud fleshes , ready to split.
I`m blind and deaf to all that exists .
I`m in-loved at....LOVE .