"Neither the tricuspid valve"
O, see, my heart,
Naive heart!
At first
You gave to love
All chordae tendineae ,
Not even sweet words work.
After the mitral valve.
What can still save you?
The left ventricle
Was made a toy.
The aorta and vena cava,
With which you delighted
The body, from neck
To the hallux bone,
You gave them, in a hurry!
Do you understand that to
This love only
Matters what must turn dust?
And thus you donate
Your coronary arteries.
What arbitrary
Decisions! My Heart,
Foolhardy heart!
What should be done?
The burden of each
Repeated heartbeat
Attached to the mediastinum
Does not serve for anything.
You do not have reason.
You have been in prison.
O, see, my heart,
Unstable heart,
Why do you want the illusion of
A contraction to run from love?
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