White bells with pendulums of anise,
Harmonies of glass where my lips become puppets,
And take me to a gentle river of warm current,
Where I dream with seeing your gaze.

But I refuse to open my eyes again,
Because of the infinite world called kiss,
Where a meager second has a life of happiness,
And the only language is the rose with your skin.

Let me find the rhythm that lies between your ribs,
But it feels as I touch your hands,
And expands with every breath,
Leading me back to your mouth.

So no matter how much I separate my eyelids,
I will return to the place in the middle of your smile,
But not before admiring your face,
And thus have a reason to return.