SKULLS: 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓐𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓕𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰

Everyone, with the approaching twilight They ask my lamp for fire and leave, and the wind from the door that they half open spread the ashes of the hearth; you who asked for nothing and I do not see, and that you never leave you expect something from me, maybe happiness to feel myself cry!

𝓝𝓪𝓭𝓪 𝓟𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮

Todos, con el crepúsculo cercano piden fuego a mi lámpara y se van, y el viento de la puerta que entreabren esparce las cenizas del hogar; tú que nada pediste y que no veo, y que nunca te vas, algo esperas de mí, tal vez la dicha ¡de sentirme llorar!