The smell of night mystery lures me
In the swirls of my hidden of all abbey.
The Moon dust covers my steps-
But I don't care, who wants to turn back?
And how could I dare now to do that,
When I feel how the abbey opens its gate?
And why should I want again to lose,
When all my life I was ,of the dreams, a profuse?
Behind the gate, waiting for me,I have a scale to climb-
Enough on my soles stuck, of the descending, the grime.
On the top, the abbot expects me to give myself back to myself-
But who is the abbot in my heart's abbey, and why being lost I felt?