To Lola and Esther (they know why)
.
"Alone, I? If
thousand words haunt me, like flocks of doves,
I love, I enchant
Yque charm break any forced closure
with fantastic stories of sighs and complaints
.
"Sad, I?
If the hollow of my soul, the songs explode
that laugh, that piano, on Twitter reververante, which
minstrel limp, I saw colors,
and runs crazy, singing, walking
this heart .
Tired, me?
If gallop through the air, the wind syrupy
waist hugs me and holds my hand,
disordered hair and bare
enjoying over the desire and longing excited
.
"Useless, I?
If I born the stories in the palms
If scent memories, if the songs exude
if the echo of my eyes, the reflection of other lights
remind me, in dreams, landscapes visited
.
I'm not a prisoner of my body ...
inhabit it and hear it but sometimes I
slipped from her hands
