Not a big surprise,
you, shadow, night.
I must have known by now,
of course.
But still …
I’m told now
that love from you
then … just died.
I feel I should mark this day
on the cosmic records of ours,
you know, for the sake of her,
the lost asterist of the triad.
I saw that day
—that ancient past—,
I lost my mind.
I saw this day
—this present apart—,
it broke my heart.
(But I just stared at the evening light
—so clear and sweet, so calm—
and suffocate the pain inside.)
Thirty years passed tonight:
you flee.
And I’m sworn
to let you leave.
Maybe in time
you won’t want to be mine.
I don’t want el mañana to come
porque cancela el infinito
and I’m not sure what to do with that.
(But I will find out).
¿Do you hear the sirens
at the beginning y al final?
I swear to you
I hear them in my head
everytime since you commited
____.
And if you want the answer
to your question
that comes in so late,
then it is there.
Even when I say it’s not,
there’s the cause you search for.
Because I saw that day
and I lost my mind
again and again.
And I see this day,
the (de)finite one,
but, Lord, I’m fine.
