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And yet, I gave them enough.
I've given them wholesome.

Et lux perpetua.

Quantity and quality were therefore present.
But then, what is this misfortune that in the depths of myself tells me I don’t understand the dilemma?
Create a gift so precious that can give life but also take it.
And see the waste portrait it as a victim steered me,
many times, to torment it to make them pay their morbid stupidity.
And the sea drowns its chimera; its fury raises groundswell and sounds the alarm.
And in the chaos of fickleness, shed a tear; ardent but proud.

Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine.
Kyrie eleison.
Christe eleison.

The sea throws all its strength; grows hollow the shores,
beats the cliffs, brings shelves into the world.
The conniving thunder darts its lightning on coffins in his respite.
In its fury, fleeting wave, it overwhelms the man of passions and tough mysteries.

The sea is filled; tired, triumphant; the impetuous sea subsides.
Queen, she purrs, nestled between enchanting inferno.

Et lux perpetua.

Its shady eyes stare at the splendor of a rainbow.
Then the eyelids close, by the trial, filled with venom.
From this titanic struggle only remains a smooth mass.

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