Two 3 languages that phallo, I have my heart no more creative. O espanhol is born in me when I write poems, sometimes in the form of desabafo, sometimes purely imaginary and almost always erotic. I leave two various ones that I have hidden in a diary. I drew a sun on your back, so that you can combine with the moons on my hips, I lit a pink candle for you, I burned cinnamon on a stick, I asked the goddess for a kiss from you and you gave it to me. You looked at me without understanding anything and I consecrated your body over mine, I consecrated your coming into my life, we then consecrated the flesh. On your forehead I balanced an Ametrine, we proclaim eternal love on her, humans who are not very clever, you spit on my fluids and united we did what destiny united. Primitive desires we fulfilled and then we were the anthem of an almost forbidden love. God Pan and Pitis we would be, if all that were real, if the imaginary became carnal, if your bed were mine, we would be that big, like gods from other mythologies.