Despues De Las Seis

Your name was like a daily sunset
whispered in secret
After six o'clock

And it evoked the serious, gloomy, gray sky
that now gives a certain melancholic air
to the old garden.
The garden that you used to come to visit
to spend the afternoons and other hours
in the shade of the pine
to listen to the crystal clear singing of the fountain.
I remember those days
with the premonition of your name
always whispered.
The leaf murmured, the fountain too
the wind tried a calm sway.
Dragonflies and chestnut beetles
your name flew, releasing charms
some monotonous and delicate
the others fantastic and balanced.
How different it is now that autumn has arrived
and with a breath, it disheveled the flower.
And the leaf dressed itself
in butterfly finery and floated away
floating scarlet in a curl
of sun to then exclaim:
oh, I am, I am, oh
sail, song, cry, dry and of paper.
November has ended today
and tomorrow the sun will rise
and it will go away in the afternoon as it did today
And the leaves will begin
to see your name under a different color.
The night begins the shadow games
with the rhythmic falling of the leaves.
And then I repeat your name in secret
because if I keep it, it burns in my chest.
Your name is a poetry book of hidden things
that once opened, jump out liberated
some monotonous and delicate
the others fantastic and balanced.
And now that the garden is in reds and browns
a dress that reaches my feet
I was the leaf that dressed itself
in butterfly finery and floated away
floating scarlet in a curl
of sun when it was autumn king.
Oh, I am, today I am, oh,
like the dry leaf, complaints of paper.

Your name is like a daily sunset
to be whispered in secret,
After six o'clock.