"Hubo un día en que el día no engañaba,
en que sus manos tristes no sostenían un cuervo
indiferente como los labios de la lluvia,
como el rojizo hastío."

Hubo un día en que la noche aún soñaba,
aún se perfilaba agridulce como el graznido de una cebolla,
como la luz del espacio indiferente.

Esos días son largamente pasado,
de ensueño esas noches difusas,
ensueño de luz de alba, de nacer de día.

En estos días sueño con tus noches,
con tu paradisíaco mirar naranja
y tu dionisíaco sabor azul.

En estas noches lloro por tu pérdida,
por los sentidos perdidos,
por los placeres privados;
y añoro con añoranza tu existencia vana.

//

"There was a day in which the day didn't deceive,
in which its sad hands did not hold a raven
indifferent like the lips of rain,
like reddish boredom."

There was a day in which night still dreamt,
still took shape bittersweet like the croacking of an onion,
like the light of an indifferent space.

Those days are long past,
of dreams those dim nights,
dream of dawn's light, of day's birth.

In these days I dream of your nights,
of your heavenly orange look
and your dionysian blue taste.

In these nights I cry for your loss,
for the lost senses,
for the deprived pleasures
and I long with longness your vain existence.

A year has passed since I crashed my motorcycle.
The road rash had since been cast away.
The fast paced life was smashed together.
A singular bash that cached my memory.
Lights flash and whiplash has new meaning.
This thrash blinked my eyelash three days later.
Dreary forecast laid flabbergasted.