El Centinela y la Alkimista

The grimace of some sorcery of the rubble
Wanted my course to unfold the mouth of my ashes
In the tomb of some fatal magician,
Where the sound of the hands that invoke cut down the
Smile of the most deaf of lights, looking, at
Through a drain the whole planet of your
Skies and in that sermon of the vestiges doesn't
Stop calling me that light, its story that cradles the
Cradle of indifference with no other remedy than what
Read by the old sentinel to his beloved
Alchemist in the transmuted whim to keep
Living

I am eager to find you, decide if not
To stay or face some dragon
I fly over the throat of destiny to embrace your
Freckles.....that close.... The eyes....in front of
Me I feel like I escape every moment between the
Glass of silence and the shadow of your voice I slip
Through the skin of that breeze above the
Fire of arms that watch the smaller street and it's
You whom I see standing... Alchemist of the adverse and
So sentinel in your night, in its usual
Round I seek that embrace so distant that twists
Sideways, that sews to my reason wants a
Heart cemented with the cold well
Seated I search among the gestures of a spell among
Remnants of a death that terrifying dream
Go through those unique streets and shelter in your
Cities the tomb of hope is looted
Someone will resurrect it I hope it's
Today some luck wanted to unleash that
Steal some verses from Serrat or another
Song I feel you left and returned if
You were born I'm lucky I just hope to be me and not
Make the wrong decision

Goes out to accompany the dusk let his
Fingers blow the silence that it keeps in a
Drawer under that neglected moon keep
Seeing that life is not being imprisoned in the
Eyes of a voice I walk among mandates so corrupt
Fireflies of fear, murderers of
Illusion I want to be perhaps a holocaust, a
Bloody memory I want to be the wound that
Kicks, the memory of a stone, the sign
Of the heart I want to be your next move
If luck is your gaze I want to be the time that
Exceeds, the elapsed moment, the eternal
Thinker in the arms of the farthest star
I will hang that shot that weaves words that
Want to be heard if like the rain the songs
Are born from storms, from cold, from lava,
From love and illusion and lie hidden in
Streets ready for you and that's how
I still see you standing alchemist of the opposite and
So sentinel in the night, your
Night, in my usual round in my usual
Round........