Traveler who returns to that northern city
where a sweet snow soaks the reason,
where the ships come loaded with questions
to laborious docks like my heart.
Tell me about my life, the black highways
that go through my stubborn loneliness,
those people who pass by the street, carrying
my thinking on the other side of the city.
When from her and from me? only these verses remain,
the hotels that we wanted to share one day,
the cars parked on our memory,
the Glorieta de Atocha where I know her?
tell him I'm standing at the end of m? same
just like a customs officer with no one to fine,
like a hitchhiker under the rain,
like the menopause of a fatal woman.
And tell him I miss her,
when it squeezes the cold,
when nothing is mine,
When the world is sordid and alien,
that you will not forget,
is one of those that gives
always a little more
that everything ... and nothing ask.
Tell him I miss him and that I feel dry
just like a president inside the bus,
like a Kawasaki in a painting by El Greco,
Like a plaid dog, like a blue cat.
Only among all we can make this a better place :)