Convalecencia en Valencia

There's someone on the Moon of Valencia
who went for a walk yesterday
and decided to stay there...
I know him, he's an unfaithful friend:
he cut himself and got hurt.
Maybe some crazy people from that neighborhood,
fellow stage companions,
can rescue him...
because a beloved voice crosses the sea
and touches intimate fibers.
But when you're so far away,
asking for help in the desert.
Disintegrated, he fell into a crater
and is dazed and without reflection.
And... he cries when he remembers
that love that messed him up.
Or maybe he doesn't want to admit
that he's a damn Argentine.
Full of uncertain phobia,
he always regrets a love sickness.
He carries a dagger in his chest...
that's the offering of a lady
who didn't want a king,
and a slow journey to a honeyless moon.
Staying is as sad as leaving,
because he has a certainty:
he only knows how to make mistakes.
And he goes, lost, waiting for a sign,
imprisoned in the mist of inertia.
But when you're so far away,
asking for help in exile.
Disintegrated, he fell into a crater
and goes dazed and without reflection.
And... he cries when he remembers
that love that messed him up.
Or maybe he doesn't want to admit
that he's alone, on the Moon of Valencia,
alone on the Moon of Valencia, alone...