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Cant del Mignia
7 (CANT II)
Along the path of roses towards the sacred mountain
When suddenly i came upon a little shepherd.
He was breaking the monstrous trunk that burst out
From under the waning roots, bile of the traveller.
The mask falls to the rhythm of the evil dance.
One couple, then another with one wrong move.
We will live in a House without walls or brushes.
And I will run towards the piece of soul full of holes.
Surrounded by an enchanted world.
If líving and dying and laughing and
playing the wolf and writing.
Everything, I must do everything, yet master nothing
Not even the art of telling the story.