Una estación sin voz
Antonio Orozco
A Station Without Voice
A path of light
a fleeting breeze
the memory so gray
and the sense in lying.
A brutal wait
the platform always the same
nine years without voice
nine hungers passed.
Without voice, without voice.
No matter how much one wants and how difficult it is
when it's time to wait, you wait.
When he left, he promised
that he would soon return to return
the heart he took
and every day he waits in that corner.
It was the station
that stole from them
the more than a thousand poems he wrote
it was love that deceived him
or all the memories
that he told me.
Without voice.
No matter how much one wants and how difficult it is
when it's time to wait, you wait.
Another endless night
today it's time to dream
about the king's bed
or about not waking up.
Today was a great day
smoked ten cigarette butts
with two coins he spent the day.
Lifeless.
When he left, he promised
that he would soon return to return
the heart he took
and every day he waits in that corner.
It was the station
that stole from them
the more than a thousand poems he wrote
it was love that deceived him
or all the memories
that he told me.
Without voice.
No matter how much one wants and how difficult it is
when it's time to wait, you wait.
When he left he promised
that he would soon return to return
the heart he took
and every day he waits in that corner.
It was the station
that stole from them
the more than a thousand poems he wrote.
He stayed, he stayed... without voice, without voice.
No matter how much one wants and how difficult it is
when it's time to wait, you wait.
When it's time to wait, you wait, you wait, you wait, you wait.
