By chance, where are you?
He always hears a call
After looking so much,
Not even a glimpse of a person.

There are many insisting messages
That hide in the mystery,
That's why he doesn't know from where
The voices come traveling.

What shall he do if they persist?...
Must support them like a torment,
Is it her on the whisper from the wind
What deliriously he hears?...

Someone waking him up whispers,
Your passion is only imagination
With illusions out of nothing,
If there's no LOVE, no one calls them.

No one, in the truth that tortures
Even so, it filled the deep emptiness,
He feels it so his own
Because it warmeth his tenderness.