I went to sea when he thought I deceived him
in my old fire temperate
moved moved my nature because nature
use and ongoing damage.
In another sky, another strange kingdom,
my jobs were in my face,
finding, although other age so happens, uncertain
good and some disappointment: it
I love
burns and torments of reason and freedom and deprives me.
Why do you complain that he has the soul?
Can not write, say, or not alive?
Do you with my love I do not feel
I do with my pen I do not write.
in my old fire temperate
moved moved my nature because nature
use and ongoing damage.
In another sky, another strange kingdom,
my jobs were in my face,
finding, although other age so happens, uncertain
good and some disappointment: it
I love
burns and torments of reason and freedom and deprives me.
Why do you complain that he has the soul?
Can not write, say, or not alive?
Do you with my love I do not feel
I do with my pen I do not write.
Lope de Vega.
Painting: "The Infanta Isabel Clara Eugenia with Magdalena Ruiz, Alonso Coello, s.
XVI 
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