[The priest is doing a sermon at church]:

PRIEST: The chastity vote is made by the purity of the body who was borne as sinner when is delivered it to the Lord. You shouldn’t prostitute, remind yourself from the original sin… God punishes the fornicator with diseases and more diseases! Remind yourself: the body is a divine creation, you shouldn’t violate it with carnal desires. You shouldn’t explore the lust, because it’s the devil’s way. Bodies that don’t follow our laws to the way of Kingdom of heaven will be condemned forevermore. Remind yourself that the devil watches our steps and expect us in the hell, where there is eternal pain and suffering, where witches are burned and where are those who don’t regret for your sins and they don’t enter in heaven.

The man seems each day more lost in temptation

If he looks for the prostitutes then commit a fatal sin and the hell expect him

There is scalding fire, giant monsters and agonizing pains.

There are huge cauldrons to the condemned, where are black demons with long tails and wings of sparkling bats, animal horns and goat hair waiting to make the party!

Do not even imagine what it is!

There must be deep wells where crawling and giants snakes have huge and sharp teeth to devour condemned beings.

Lucifer is a cursed one who persuades fools to commit evil.

Well, sinners indulge in worldly pleasure, but everything goes like the wind

They surrender to that which is fleeting and doesn’t belong to the divine kingdom.

Our orders brings hope for the coming days

Our indulgence buys a piece in the heavens, for the eternal rest of the soul

Our lives will be purged by the Lord

I can’t imagine a life saved without our forgiveness.

[The sermon is finished and a troubadour comes asking for priest’s attention.]

TROUBADOUR: Your holiness, I have come to bring you some of my songs for your appreciation, perhaps I may ask for some help from your wisdom to think beyond what I think and thus be inspired...

Oh, how beautiful is purity on earth and the freedom of birds!

Oh, mistress, come and smell the roses.

Oh, maiden, where is your ideal?

A beauty that is dizzying,

In words, it fills with wisdom

And in the spring it blossoms!

Take good care of your body, which is the door to the heavens.

Take good care of your image, which is to be like the divine

I want the perfume in a sacred body

That even in tears he sleeps

And dream with your mouth on the nights of passion

How precious is the tender look of the girls

That on a day like this they flatter themselves with my singing!

PRIEST: Well, my brother, there is a little sweetness in the words of the pure maidens, who hold in chastity the light of fertility.

TROUBADOUR: Priest, I have devoted my life to sing my love. I will marry one day, but I’m afraid of being attracted by the gaze of a beautiful lady of this village, the one who carries jasmine flowers in her hair. His gaze is so single… I would like to dedicate new songs to her as my way of admiration. May I ask to you permission to take my art to the kingdom?

PRIEST: The arts made by troubadours are allowed provided it doesn’t show heresies and another way of a serious sin. Scorn and cursing make part of our daily so I wish good luck to you!

TROUBADOUR: Thanks for your attention, your most reverend.

These cathedrals with their colorful stained glass windows are so huge that seems invocate our asleep giants from inside to celebrate their praises, sermons or just chants of the earthly choirs. They carry their splendor when it seems touch the skies, searching on the lofty catch up the celestial angels from entrance of the heaven of eternal life. Oh, my eyes were inebriated so much with this charm! Your gargoyles guard your doors ensuring that here don’t come any evil spirit which with the evil hit our souls with a face of darkness, bringing your shadows instead of the light. From inside I see rosettes that seem bring the beauty inspiration of the flowers in your shapes, from gorgeous stars of the cosmos which form fascinating drawings like if it keeps a mystery from inside brought by the prophets. I see beautiful adornments on the walls, on every stone carved carefully, to erect its walls in triumphs that one day separate our worlds from spirituality. […] Once I came to listen to a sermon, and I do not know what I was hearing, but it seemed like symphony music tender and soft like the wind breeze that touches our faces and drags the leaves to the ground cheerfully. I hardly heard it… I seemed to imagine corals singers whispering melodic words in my ears... At that moment the church was empty, and I had a vision of an angel sitting under a rock looking at the horizon of a battlefield... Your skin was white, it seemed made of wax… How I wish to have mysterious visions, though my entry into this temple that bears the Lord’s universe seems like as a one…