Óleo de Una Mujer Con Sombrero

A woman has been lost
To know the delirium and the dust,
This beautiful madness has been lost,
Her brief waist beneath me.
My way of loving has been lost,
My trace in her sea has been lost.

I see a flickering light
That promises to leave us in the dark.
I see a dog barking at the moon
With another figure that reminds me of myself.
I see more: I see that she didn't find me.
I see more: I see that she got lost.

An unnameable woman
Flees like a seagull
And I quickly dry my boots,
Blaspheme a note and turn off the clock.
Love should be careful with me,
For I can sing its song.

Cowardice is a matter
Of men, not lovers.
Cowardly loves do not become loves,
Nor stories, they stay there.
Not even memory can save them,
Nor the best speaker conjugate.

A woman with a hat,
Like a painting by the old Chagall,
Corrupting in the center of fear
And I, who am not good, started to cry.
But then I cried for myself,
And now I cry to see her
Die.