El destino de la abeja

Clear,
It's very sad that an oak
Yields and is enveloped by languor,
The embrace of time hurts,
Always giving the gift of old age.

But there will be nothing sadder
Than the altruistic moral,
Just one time, one attempt,
The fate of the bee.

Always jumping from flower to flower
Marveling us with the honey.
Such promiscuous devotion
A mix of instinct and sensibility.

There will be nothing more terrible,
Darker than loneliness.
It will defend itself, sting once,
There won't be another chance.

Take care of your life,
For nature identifies us
And it may be
That you are a dove or a weasel,
More fatal if for love
You have the soul of a bee.

Take care of your life,
For nature identifies us
And it may be
That you are a dove or a weasel,
More fatal if for love
You have the soul of a bee.