Do you feel the pain that makes you tremble? Do you feel that thing you can't explain? It's the lancet of my love operating you, Without anesthesia, cutting the cancer of evil, I'm afraid too of hurting you, But I'm forced to go on; I have to expose your inmost at the sun, Resewing it with a golden thread. When all will be over you'll give me thank, Having you presented another life; By now, you're the embryo in my hand, But soon the moth will fly...