This woman who throws herself, cold And lúbrica to my arms, and in the breasts She snatches me and kisses me and stutters Verses, vows of love and ugly names. This woman, flower of melancholy Who laughs at my pale fears The only one among all whom I gave The cares that the other would never give. This woman who proclaims to each love the misery and the greatness of the one she loves And keeps the mark of my teeth on her. This woman is a world! � a bitch Maybe ... � but in the frame of a bed No woman ever been so beautiful!
miss you