The candle burns, its feeble flame,
Its omnilight,
Irradiates and draws the circle
Of my sight.
I close my eyes, imagination reigns
My soul.
White naked fields and unleashed
Up and down in the dark
Conceived
Of straw and trimmings
Rags and cloth,
Lace and stiches,
Wasn\'t supposed
To have a soul
- Marionette.
Her once bright colours
Withered
