You always wanted to be part of a poem,
and maybe I never told you,
that behind those beautiful honey eyes,
where childhood is perpetually hidden,
lives a warrior without gall,
with a heart of sweetness
and a velvety skin.
Battles from the top,
battles from the temple,
who never believed in the yesterday.
Look high, my warrior,
look high to your King,
because you will always be an example,
from whom we saw your stings.