I don't know if the poet's dreams are inert,

if dishonesty surpasses the truth

I don’t know If before that twilight

the hours paused 

and their shrieks burst out

I grope my way along the road,  

finding a dungeon at every step;

the voice of hatred surrounds me like fire

taking root very close to me...

I don't know what I want to be and for what;

in what...

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