Poema de Sete Faces

When I was born, a crooked angel
One of those who live in the shadows
Said: Go, Carlos, be gauche in life

The houses spy on the men
Who chase after women
The afternoon might have been blue
If there weren't so many desires

The tram passes full of legs
White, black, yellow legs
Why so many legs, my God? Asks my heart
But my eyes
Don't ask anything

The man behind the mustache
Is serious, simple, and strong
Hardly talks
Has few, rare friends
The man behind the glasses and the mustache

My God, why have you forsaken me?
If you knew I wasn't God
If you knew I was weak

World, world, vast world
If my name were Raimundo
It would be a rhyme, not a solution
World, world, vast world
Vaster is my heart

I shouldn't tell you
But that Moon
But that cognac
They make us moved like the devil