LIVES PASSINGNothing is fire and margin,is shadow and disappointment,It is harboring and courage,never before than not,because nothing is fire and margin.And if the troublesome memories prevent my traces,interfere in all our folds,boring, exciting, intoxicatingas insomnia cowards;those who are worthless,these poor unablewho do not value the hunger killor quench water that poison!IT IS! Fire is nothing in the bank!lonely hovel in Concord innocence!infant and discreet desertthe quiet traveler!the days long fingers go-,They will be ages and crumbles pointsthis asphyxiating ingratitude and awaythe real root in that you have no peace!IT IS! On the fire side everything is nothing!It is soap in clean,It is big toe in dirty shoes,It is child with garbage in the stomach,It is old with line and top.Among the desires that life told meshe described caring for the eternal horizon.She explained that in the chaos of the order of time and spacechildren revealed beautiful songs of self-control;Easy poems public domain of reason;sound instruments that transmitted consciousness!Jeez! Life really told me!And in his words she reminded me thatold fire on the sidelines of nowhere!Yes! That bitter memory that brought menostalgia and inconsequential damage to my tears!Ah! I was so sober that your eyes still mark my hands!I was so foolish that even knowing all transparency in dreamsI did not see anything that was not all of you!Just nothing with the fire on the shore!This is how the days are renewed.The universal heart beat walking in step with the frames of heaven!I think it came not this something?I think all this fire is margin?I like nothing burning in the fire?Suportas the margin consuming anything?Nothing is firebecause the fire is nothing and margin! TEMPENATURALIDADEMore understanding of the heavens,more than the illusion that gallbetween its moons in my paper,looking for the answer in the stars my love,I see your brilliant stage in my heart,I feel my heart glad to know you accept.Even though the nostalgia make me suffer,even alone on the street I can say,the truth that is at peace with life,when the mad grab for money by opening the wounds,finding that the cowardice of others is the reason,stepping the head of a thinking on the ground,sad that illusion, piece of bread,it says nothing that is love,I feel my heart glad to know you accept.For the constant struggle I have in me,superior intelligence that shows me yougreater than the gap does not appear seethat the world is upside down, reverse the mind,poetry averse, paths distant,the constant reminders,this whole mess in the lives unusualthere seems to be a lack reciprocal.And if it is better to be silent,it is better to let them get dirty,while my astro back of his going in reverse,this time I leave the inside of the crib,when they age rapidly,when the frenzied dance of liesmove from their devastating fashion,when our children can notwhat else is going down to the ground,when the light of life ascend our heartthen I can calmly get my mission,I can with you in grass field and wide awake.The piece of bread,fighting corruption,the sadness of seeing girls in prostitution,Output of drugs by the boys cluelesswashing the dirty clothes with