At the end, butterfly passed over the sad enclosure walls, and the old man followed her, entering through the door. But soon he had taken a few steps when, looking to the butterfly, which seemed to melt into the gray atmosphere, collided with a stone and fell. Three times he tried to get up, and fell again three times. And, not being able run already more behind his chimera, he contented himself with tender arms. Then the butterfly seemed to pity him, and although he had lost his most vivid colors, stood to hover above his head. Maybe weren’t the wings of the insect which had lost their vivid colors; Perhaps were the eyes of the elder who had weakened. Circles described by the butterfly were making more and it was more narrow, and end to pose on his pale forehead of the dying person.
This lifted the arm, in a last effort, and hand finally touched the tip of the wings of the butterfly, so eager and so many fatigues object; but, what a disappointment!, he realized that what had been pursuing was not a butterfly, but a ray of sunshine. Her arm fell limply and cold, and his last breath made shudder atmosphere that weighed on that cemetery and, despite everything, poet, chases, pursuing your unbridled desire of ideal; It seeks to achieve, through infinite pains, that ghost of a thousand colors fleeing incessantly before thee, but break you heart, but turns off life, although the last breath you exhales in the moment in which you rods by hand. In short, it must be attentive to as manifest our desire, involving them, so that situations that US 75(1) do not give in our growth, learning, transit through this world, dimension, which we must pass a period of time, consider what some have written, expressed about it, for example: Benjamin Franklin if the man will reach the half of the wishes you have, redoblaria their concerns. Chateaubriand, while the heart has desire, imagination keeps illusions.