Itís lies, there is no abyss up above,
The book of requitals and prices.
We canít help admiring the night Zodiac
Eternal constellationsí dances.
We stare at them, throwing up our heads,
Eternity, secret and silence.
Thereís ways of the fates and such short our lives
Are somewhere marked by invisible marks
Which usually save and protect us.
The sweetness so hot in such short Februaries,
Like wonderful juice of the flowers
Star water is poured by Aquarius
In bottomless Capricornís mouth.
The universe torrent is winding and stern
And painted with bloods in its waters
But, on pulling out in March haze from the binds
The powerful Pisces swim on their flies
Through Milky roadways to the sources.
Sagittarius is fired back at least
Heís bored and is breaking his spears
So Taurus may be joy and even frisk
At wonderful May-grass areas.
From August so hungry Leo is looking
At April fat Aries on pastures.
For June Gemini there hands are stretching
The most tender Virgins from this constellation
And turn Libra into swing chairs.
The darkness is snipped by the rays of the light.
Theyíre like Ariannaís thread, endless.
But Scorpio and Cancer are so far
From us and, of course, harmless.
The man was not angry with his Zodiac.
(But stars arenít afraid of disgrace)
He took stars from the skies and made them his own,
He mounted them in gold, silver and bone,
And made to the secret access.