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Look through the fallen curtain.
The trembling silence
has been cut off by the melody of time.
If these illusions of mutual desire can pile up,
I won't complain, even if I continue to be captured.
Let us sleep, listening to the ticking of the clock,
and quench our dried up, thirsty hearts with tears.
In this faintly reflected profile of life
dreams, reality, everything
washes away and scatters.
These wailings of mutual attraction resound,
drunk on tragedy, as according to the plot.
Let us fall into this world that has just begun to turn
and kiss in sweet scented despair.
For who does the truth continue to wander about
in these entangled threads and this unending puzzle?
Let us pray, as you like it, let us dance,
applauding the best curtain call.