“There is no penance due to innocence.”
John Donne

The desire grows up between, slowly and tender.
Experts knowing the field, we began to build the words.
We perfectly were aware of the horizons of the nails.
We discover that desire is not a palliative,
 is a response,
a state of knowledge.
Desire is just the signal that solitude
imposes
as a need to cover its dusk.
In addition,
we enjoy it.
This space is music’s dominion.
No intermezzo is allow,
just allegro crescendo and percussion.
This passion is a path,
a guide for listener apprentice.
Here there are no rules,
just given.
The borderlines
of our chants
and
the finger tips
recorded the sinuosity 
of our dreams:
The pleasure,
The indescribable pleasure
of the enjoyment of the flesh.
No regrets,
not a single
rumor,
not ambiguity begging.
Desire demand satisfaction
not devious sob,
not a mea culpa of devout believers
of a indefinite present.
Pleasure comes to ours eyes
with its suzerainty
integrity and grace.
There is no doubt about it.
And if there is a hesitancy,
please,
put it beside
and let listens the accord.
The punishment is the myth,
that our innocence use
to create the melody.

Byron,2oo4.

Night, it is already night.
Inebriated, he walked.
Hanging from his tatter
the memories,
and of all of them
one
stands out victorious
hidden in the corner of his lips:

He knew the flavour of the snail,
was dazzled with the hidden amber,
recognized the differences between the honey and the sting.
No one will be able , now,
to captivate the scent of the saffron
and
the incandescence  of the labium.
The same that
- even in his solitude-
he maintains 
tenderly in his lips
and his tongue
keeps it awake.

Byron González