Menudo Contraste
Antonio Orozco
Such a Contrast
My soul cries as I watch
Strolling through the downtown of any city,
Where that false dream
Turns into a murky nightmare
That one day they left in search of
What they never had,
What those who returned always talked about
Loaded with stories and strange advice
That they never understood.
Their roof in the sky, their bed on the ground
And their anguish in the bag
Where they drown their lungs
And their pride damaged and full of fear.
It burns me...
Dry your tears
A child tells me, when he sees me cry
Save those tears
For my comfort is yet to come.
Dry your tears, the ones I don't have,
The ones that make you forget.
Dry your tears, dry your tears.
Long and narrow path
Where forgotten dreams were stolen
From worn-out magazines in their nights of dreams
That wandered through the fury of the seas
And lost upon arrival.
Freedom of their actions
Capital of comfort
Blossoming of money,
Gathered with their abandoned minds
And their extinguished trail.
Distant aromas, stored nostalgias
Caresses bathed,
In the distance that separates them from their family
The one that helped so much.
It burns me...
Dry your tears
A child tells me, when he sees me cry
Save those tears
For my comfort is yet to come.
Dry your tears, the ones I don't have,
The ones that make you forget.
Dry your tears, dry your tears.
Such a contrast.
