Momentos Pendientes

From the breathing of the stones I speak to you
Of the pitchers, of the dry rivers in which I have swum
Until finding you alone and awakening like a tree of dried fruits

I speak to you from the earth, from the leaves
From the bread that dwells in the bark of certain seeds
Of certain ideas, of sleepless hours, of days without hunger
Of nights without the next Monday, without a distant tomorrow

I write to you from the afternoons that our steps loved
I write to you and leave you a kiss with the taste of air among eucalyptus
I write to you to not lose it, to not leave it, to not forget that sometimes
Perhaps unintentionally, you may be listening to me

Days follow the days of doing
And I think so many times
I don't feel love, dream, touch, or walk
If I don't pretend that I do it with you
I don't see in parks or rainy afternoons
If not as a sign the premonition
Of some chance encounter that always wanders around you

I didn't see in the course of the avenues
And in the bustle of every café
No moment that was impossible
To meet you, to see you
And so I walk streets that next to you
Reveal themselves to be traveled
Through boulevards, squares, and markets
Through park benches that never see us

The buildings and streets of downtown
Have a different time than ours
The routes and steps of people and more people
On sidewalks and in the drains
A subway that lives crowded and moving
And always returns to where it began
In the same way that your absence returns to my side
In every place where I am

The buildings and streets of downtown give me
A timeless vision, where the moment that stops
An instant invites to imagine
Everyone has their own endless list of stories
That can hold a place, that if they start with you
And end without you, are stories that never end

There are days when walking through Chapultepec
On the old side of the forest
I see that walks and gardens, roundabouts and bridges
Still hold encounters that have not happened

Moments that remain pending
Fragments of life that wander around
From the same chance encounter that always wanders around you

Moments that remain pending
Fragments of life that wander around
From the same chance encounter that always revolves around you