Look at it: is very beautiful, her laughter hits the coast,
all iras and foams. But don't try to
tell him what you think. She is in another world
(you are no more than a stranger in your eyes, your age)
Dile, in any case, you like fried sardines,
especially one evening in which it rains an unforgettable
white wine. Talk about the beautiful fuegode your country.
She is light and dark like rain that Queen
your city. His eyes are stopped in a shaky point
between the station of love and an unpredictable time.
Of course, that you sometimes forget (for a moment, is true)
your Notary Office, and, as a human being to the end,
you get to speak lyrically of policy.
The best
what you can do is to convince you that the poetry you complete,
check that you have crossed the boundary of the horror and anguish,
write an afternoon you traveled
the beautiful cobbled city
to find what could not be love
but the little sleep
you remember a dream.