No eres absoluto
You are not absolute
Like Porfirio’s power
Like the laws of physics
Like defaulted theories
No eres absoluto
Ni en lo diminuto de tus besos grises,
Tus brazos astutos,
No existen en luto.
I resist the words that will burst out of my lips
For I know my tongue
Usually lies out of mercy
And compassion
Truth is there’s no passion
Can’t live out of rations
I am not in dire need of love
I can live without the absolute emptiness you cause me
I can definitely breathe without you
No eres absoluto
Y de noche un brujo me cuenta que mientes
Mientes entre dientes
Cuando dices “tiempo” cuando insinúas “siento”
Hoy ya no me tienes
Dejo el fondo abierto
Y de lejos sueño con las alas rotas
Para que no puedas volver a montarlas
Ni meterlas en tu maleta azul
Ni echártelas por la espalda
I await in silence, like one waits for judgment
I look at the ceiling
And I imagine how it looked when I didn’t know you…
I’ve become so familiar with the ceiling, looking at it every night as if it had answers for them never-ending questions…
Where is he?
Why can’t he see me?
Yet the insensitive ceiling remains motionless, static and monotonous: absolute.
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 5:40 AM UTC
No eres absoluto
You are not absolute
Like Porfirio’s power
Like the laws of physics
Like defaulted theories
No eres absoluto
Ni en lo diminuto de tus besos grises,
Tus brazos astutos,
No existen en luto.
I resist the words that will burst out of my lips
For I know my tongue
Usually lies out of mercy
And compassion
Truth is there’s no passion
Can’t live out of rations
I am not in dire need of love
I can live without the absolute emptiness you cause me
I can definitely breathe without you
No eres absoluto
Y de noche un brujo me cuenta que mientes
Mientes entre dientes
Cuando dices “tiempo” cuando insinúas “siento”
Hoy ya no me tienes
Dejo el fondo abierto
Y de lejos sueño con las alas rotas
Para que no puedas volver a montarlas
Ni meterlas en tu maleta azul
Ni echártelas por la espalda
I await in silence, like one waits for judgment
I look at the ceiling
And I imagine how it looked when I didn’t know you…
I’ve become so familiar with the ceiling, looking at it every night as if it had answers for them never-ending questions…
Where is he?
Why can’t he see me?
Yet the insensitive ceiling remains motionless, static and monotonous: absolute.
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