A Modo de Responso

I

Miguel
What color is the temperature?
At how many degrees does tenderness melt, the skin?
Miguel..
How are eternal doubts measured?
How are silent songs sung, Miguel?
You see,
how many questions remain in the air;
how many answers that nobody knows...
and you're not here to answer me.

Miguel...
your absence hurts like I didn't know
it was going to hurt so much since that day
that, while looking at the stars,
the brightest one took you with her,
spinning, turning in its carousel.
My soul collapses among the verses,
shatters against the memories,
as if it were entirely made of paper.

II

Miguel...
How heavy is melancholy?
How far away is the joy
of being?
Miguel...
Why is the light that always shines the most
the one that glows, but doesn't dazzle, Miguel?
You see,
I'm still in darkness unable to break free,
with so many things to ask you
and you're not here to answer me.

Miguel,
if I still seem to see you,
in broad daylight, at noon,
Miguel,
Always facing forward, raising the flag
of your truth no matter how harsh it was
in this absurd Tower of Babel.
Since death passed me by,
I sing in yours the most bitter song,
which is my way of crying, Miguel.