Love is a fire that burns without being seen;
It wound that hurts and does not feel;
It is an unhappy contentment;
It is pain that desatina without hurt.
It is not wanting more than good will;
It is a lonely walk among us;
It never be content with joy;
It is a look that is gained about getting lost.
You want to be trapped by the will;
You serve who wins, the winner;
You have someone to kill us, loyalty.
But how can cause your favor
In human hearts friendship,
If so away from you is love itself?
Luís de Camões