Will it become a part of me?
Can it renew my energy?
I'm afraid love's not here.
That fragile state is where we live.

Crossroads that lead to the same place
and it's somewhere far from grace.
But he finds peace in that purple haze
that takes his head up there in space.

I daydream about a joyful ride,
among friends, music and wine,
not worrying about the passing time,
sitting with my back against the pine.

But I open my eyes and it's all gone,
there's not a place to call home.
The aching inside burns up a hole,
filling it up has kind of become my role.

So, I disconnect to pass the days
but I still have those phantom pains.
Staying inside dreaming away
the blurry reality that's in decay.

Illuminated by the moon.
Her whispers come to me.
I show her that I listen,
I'll prove her that I see.
In a white summer dress,
barefoot by the creek,
with my loose long hair
and my soft pink cheeks.
Almost midnight time,
stones, herbs and tree barks,
kneeling on the grass,
going over ancient marks.
My silver hoops sparkle
and I begin to recite
a beesech to a force
unnoticeable to the sight.
Developed energies.
Astral effect;
my state of mind goes higher
so my wish I can project.
I feel its presence;
It thickens the air.
The wind blows stronger.
I can feel its piercing stare.
I command you my will
and I order you to bow
as I start to float inside the circle
baring my tar black soul.
The moon is still there,
up there in the dark sky.
It giggles and whispers:
*You belong to the night.

A face no one remembers
touched by the winter breeze,
dejected, walking with no rush
through streets that scream
You don't belong in here!
Looking for a hole in the ground
to lie down and sleep,
even when it's too cold
to decompose and disappear.
Red nose, watery eyes,
quietly humming a song
that no one seems to hear.
Stepping up the pace,
wishing to be headed somewhere else
than the pale yellow cracked paint house.
Cars passing by,
not a single friendly face
behind the steering wheel.
The cold pierces to the bone,
keep on walking, almost "home",
ease the coldness with a hot coffee.
And you travel through that state of mind,
never cured, never improved,
but you hope for it to change over a night of sleep.

You may be what I need,
what will wake me from sleep.
An holographic dream,
a mix of love and ******.

La de amores intermitentes y fugaces.
A quien le dan un intento pero no dos chances.

La de encuentros efímeros a escondidas.
Escapes irreales, soñadas huidas.

Su tímida personalidad versátil
en ocasiones se torna agobiantemente volátil.

Tiene esa extraña energía que la hace genuina,
de cada rosa muerta conserva una letal espina.

La que camina a través de la multitud
con la cabeza en alto y una desafiante actitud,

con su corto vestido ajustado
y labios de rojo tirando a morado.

Muchos la devoran con una mirada ardiente.
Secretamente eso es lo que espera impaciente.

Guiña un ojo e irrumpe sin previo aviso.
Te invita al lado equivocado del paraíso.

Especialmente a vos, nudillos de luchador.
Vos, que llevas ese mote de ganador.

Sus coloridos caprichos a los demás alteran,
pero ella actúa como si no lo supiera.

Y en sus solitarias caminatas a veces hace una parada
en aquel café donde la triste rutina se ve pausada.

Pide un jugo de naranja y se sienta en una mesa de afuera,
el vestido se le sube demasiado pero sabe lo que genera.

Piernas cruzadas provocativamente,
su lengua juega con el sorbete de forma inocente.

Su piel de seda emana cierta energía
que te golpea con imágenes de todo lo que le harías.

La de pícaras sonrisas, labios sabor miel,
sabe que de sólo pensarlo te quema la piel.

The rain has stopped
but the sun is out sight.
The sky is cloudy grey
and I've grown numb.
I think I miss the pouring
hitting on my skin,
at least I had something
to make me feel.

Maybe after some months
– or years –
I'll meet your eyes again
and maybe then,
you'll be able to love me.
Or maybe,
just maybe,
I'll have already forgotten you.
Hopefully.