Pilgrim of the existence, in route without a destination,

martyr always suffering the pain of false vows,

envious, in the life, sometimes, I hear a hymn —

which intone linked by luck couples.

The legendary Samuel walks in madness,

over steppes (only!) in vortex and acrities,

since the mouth of the Hell to the high of Sabino,

of desires and of lethal tortures surrounded.

How many people have pity of his destiny. How many!

Meanwhile, my penalty is so larger and it is so much

that I judge not to feel the pain of the horrendous death.

He doesn't see to pass his dear close,

in the arm of another... I see and so that his is, certain,