The living fire burns hot within her heart,
And melts the ice that drapes across my world.
I give her names like "joy that won't depart,"
"My hope of peace," "The might of God unfurled."
Her beauty is the theme the poet seeks
And yet, by fortune, is but mine to praise.
A strangely simple task for when she speaks
She moves me so, and sets my heart ablaze.
Her splendor is the sum of my esteems,
A bolt of lightning in my sky of gray,
A glimpse of truth within my life of dreams,
An hour of rest that spells my darkest day.
She resurrects the faith in me again,
And marks the true departure of my sin.
Bolivar and San Martin: Guayaquil, Ecuador
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