Manos de Trapo (Mas de locos que de sabios)

The craziest one
brings me more life than the wisest
no treasures or castles without your lips.

Feet that root into the ground
warmed by the sun
free in the sun.

And now that she sleeps beside me
I confess I don’t want another bed
if her face isn’t within two feet
I can’t find it.

I’m consumed by the longed-for clarity
of being all night
stuck to the window.

And I wake to the adulterated heartbeat
pumping the thousand reasons of a pen
in my hands.

Ragged hands shackled to contracts
lacking calluses that time erased
uncultured hands that barely recite
and only by touching you deserve to be mine.

Present at the same time as disgraceful
I squeeze out the bitter undrinkable
that dawn only seen by eyes
covered in the salt of the sea of the very lonely.

Ragged hands shackled to contracts
lacking calluses that time erased
uncultured hands that barely recite
and only by touching you deserve to be mine.

That I clean my miseries only with these hands that are...

Ragged hands shackled to contracts
lacking calluses that time erased
uncultured hands that barely recite
and only by touching you deserve to be mine.