La balada de la cárcel

Two days or three ago
and as if by chance
a message came into my hands, there it is
it wasn't written by a Robinson from the South Seas,
it wasn't a letter in a glass bottle
it was a zine from the jail,
shipwrecks from a place where
no ships arrive
and there's no moon at night,
no sun rises during the day.
And written in a corner and written with
pain
a poem from a man who killed for
love
I know he can't hear me or see me
and even though he knows nothing about me
and even though I know nothing about him
may his voice, chained
be the one to sing this ballad.
That woman's name
is a name of a murderer
he killed her and she killed him, that name is
Catalina
Now he only lives to remember
the nightmare that was the story of their love
the nightmare that was their love...