Living without flames, without battle, Under a sky without thunder, without longing, It's as if time turns to ashes Without a dream that burns in love.

It doesn't hurt when a tear falls in silence, It doesn't break when a whisper becomes an echo, But the lack of love is a longing for pain, An infinite void, a last gift.

And if you look into the wounded gaze, and you feel that nothing burns in two anymore, it's not love that hurts, but the burning absence, a sky without stars, a body without rain.

But love triumphs, it's born in fire, it's not sweet silence, it's not a step but a path, it's the dream that holds fate in place, it's the burning of life, not ashes over smoke.

To love is a storm, it is the sky on fire, it is the torment that fills, not the absence that breaks, better to lose than to extinguish everything, better to suffer than to cry everything.