Ｄｕｒａｍｏｓ ｌｏ ｑｕｅ ｕｎ ｃｉｇａｒｒｉｌｌｏ.
Ｆｕｉｍｏｓ ｅｆíｍｅｒｏｓ．
Ｑｕｉｓｉｅｒａ ｖｉｖｉｒ ｅｎ ｅｓｏｓ ｌａｂｉｏｓ．
Ｎｕｅｓｔｒｏ ｆｕｅｇｏ ｄｕｒｏ ｌｏ ｑｕｅ ｕｎ ｃｉｇａｒｒｉｌｌｏ．
Ｅｎ ｅｌ ｈｕｍｏ ｓｅ ｅｓｃａｐａ ｔｕ ａｍｏｒ ｄｅ ｍí．
Ｃａｄａ ｖｅｚ ｅｓｔｏｙ ｍáｓ ｌｅｊｏｓ ｄｅ ｔｕｓ ｌａｂｉｏｓ．
Ｎｏｓ ｒｏｄｅａｂａ ｅｌ ｈｕｍｏ ｙ ｎｏｓ ｅｍｂｒｉａｇａｂａ ｄｅ ａｍｏｒ．
Ｐｅｒｏ ｎｏ ｓｏｙ ｂｕｅｎａ， ｎｏ ｍｅ ｎｅｃｅｓｉｔａｓ．
Ｎｏ ｑｕｉｅｒｏ ｍａｔａｒ ａ ｌｏ ｍáｓ ｈｅｒｍｏｓｏ．
Ｍｅ ｏｌｖｉｄａｓｔｅ， ｓóｌｏ ｓｏｙ ｕｎ ｃｉｇａｒｒｉｌｌｏ ｍáｓ．
Ｑｕｅｄé ｒｅｄｕｃｉｄａ ａ ｃｅｎｉｚａｓ．
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Poetry"La poesía es el sentimiento que le sobra al corazón y te sale por la mano" Carmen Conde
