Francisco de Quevedo. (№ 288122)

Cold flame, hot ice,
Pain, tearing, gives delight,
The bitter reality and the joy of dreaming
Carelessness that-full of worries.
The betrayal of that loyalty has a reputation,
Among the street crowd the privacy
Fatigue in a brief moment of rest,
And rights, and powerlessness of the stronghold.
Myself and will, and a dungeon
Decided to do in the forces only one death,
Illness that drugs do not heal
Love, barely born, friendly
With nothingness. In it heaven and hell is hidden
And the enemy itself throughout it.