Cecília

How many artists
Sing ballads
For their loved ones
With big orchestras
How I envy them
How I admire them
I who see you
And hardly breathe

How many poets
Romantic, in prose
Exalt their muses
With all the words
I whisper to you
I sigh for you
I, who spell out
Your name in the dark

Do you hear me, Cecília?
But I called you in silence
In your presence
Words are harsh

It could be that, slightly parted
My lips softly
Trembled for you
But even the subtle melodies
Do not deserve, Cecília, your name
To be spread around
Like so many poets
So many singers
So many Cecílias
With a thousand spotlights
I, who do not speak
But burn with desire
I watch you
I keep you
I follow you
I see you sleep

Listen to me Cecília
But I called you in silence
In your presence
Words are harsh

It could be that, slightly parted
My snow lips
Trembled for you
But even the subtle melodies
Do not deserve, Cecília, your name
To be spread around
Like so many poets
So many singers
So many Cecílias
With a thousand spotlights
I, who do not speak
But burn with desire
I watch you
I keep you
I follow you
I see you
I watch you
I keep you
I follow you
I see you
Sleep