El cuervo

Decadence is forbidden,
and it squeezes tightly from the neck, and doesn't let go.
its presence becomes unbearable,
and thick will be my death among flowers, and worms,
and false hypocritical laments
Oh, raven!

It lodges in your fist
and is a companion of each of your seconds,
pecking at the eyes of the unbeliever
and hungry for the weak
like you... and like me... and like you...

and it's always the same,
it's always the same, it's always the same
day by day you're losing height...
at times...
at times...
at times...