Who knows when the twilight breaks?
Or the exact moment when the day begins?
Or why a perfume and not another?
What's in that look that calls me?

I know little and it's worth little.
Life keeps giving me questions
and I'm just a wasteland ...
only for minimal instants,
I saw the miracle blossom in me.

Of the pressing times,
and from the same backwaters,
of that delicate and ungraspable second,
I hang myself from all this.

Is it that we look at the moon because we are blind?

I know there is something more solid than the truth:
that can not be alone in me,
then withered,
and dies.

Words can deceive,
only music is diaphanous.
But the music does not want to leave us .....
Why?

Life keeps giving me questions.

The lights are shelled in this still night,
tomorrow is not written,
I still remember the heat of that skin,
and the light tremor that illuminated it.

Satin, silk,
soft,
warm,
beautiful.

And a dark almost black,
that cold nothing,
a dark Sun,
almost an eclipse.

The cooing of a voice,
the sound of a skin,
the light of a glance,
the breath of a being.

Ever play,
other times I dreamed,
with the warm sand on my feet,
and the view to the horizon.


I ever knew,
I once lost,
I have loved
and surely I will die.

There is a world out there,
and an infinity here,
of time I do not count,
that counts today for me.

Today I will be sitting,
with eyes closed,
  and upon awakening,
nothing will seal my pain?

There is no right path,
no doors,
no bridges,
nor eternal kiss.

I know, I do not deny

Loads forgotten in the wind,
smiles that empty my bones,
dissolved penumbras,
in hollow noises.

Memories of rapturous breaths,
Lying hands,
pleasant warmth,
and one tomorrow.


Today,
Nothing will be allowed,
over dried blood,
of this body,
in his last destiny.