A woman has missed
knowing delirium and dust,
she has missed this beautiful madness,
her brief waist beneath me.
she has lost my way of loving,
she has lost my mark in the sea of u200bu200bher.
I see a light that wavers
and promises to leave us in darkness.
I see a dog barking at the moon
with another figure that reminds me.
I see more: I see that he did not find me.
I see more: I see that it was lost.
Cowardice is a matter
for men, not for lovers.
Cowardly loves do not become loves,
or stories, they stay there.
Not even memory can save them,
not even the best orator can conjugate them.
An unspeakable woman
flees like a seagull
and I quickly dry my boots,
I curse a note and turn off the clock.
May my love be careful,
I can sing her song.
A woman with a hat,
like a painting by old Chagall,
corrupting to the core of fear
and I, who am not good, started to cry.
But then I cried for her,
and now I cry for seeing her die.

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