I look at the moment that the photograph has fixed,
you laugh with the shyness of someone
who is ashamed of laughing.
Fifteen years that I held in my arms
to the beat of the last stolen record.
Nothing remains on that piece of paper,
everything is alchemy;
I see that it is the most truthful proof
that everything is a lie.
Those faces no longer carry our names,
they are two masks lost in the night,
but, the music remains...
I feel that time that is gone
br/>It has never been ours,
like when I look at you and I can't
remember your body;
You weren't that heartbeat insolence
that ignited my most forbidden desires.
I think that you and I are nothing more
than two strangers,
others, two strangers who in time
have become murderers
of those two children in the photograph
who, embraced, dance through life,
but, the music remains...

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