Silencio en la sala (18/98 auzolanean)

A routine that’s been dragging on for six months,
surrealism stripped bare in reality,
among the usual marble of the judges,
I suddenly closed my eyes,
I’ve sunk inward, my thoughts on you,
Orpheus’s sweet whisper calls me,
the past mixes with strange images,
truly, it’s you that I feel caressing me, truly, it’s you that I feel caressing me,
truly, it’s you that I feel caressing me, truly, it’s you that I feel caressing me.
You’re a blue horse,
you’re a black car,
you’re not an old man,
... something,
then I’m in the dark night, how I can’t see what I can’t ever see, saying then a nightmare, all pain, all you, a clock twisting, the hands bloody, I turn into a frog, and fear, then calm, and then again you caressing me, again you, and then again you caressing me, again you, and then again you caressing me, again you, and then again you caressing me, again you.
I don’t have any thorns, my skin has softened,
I’m under the essence of your touch,
a strange voice echoes "silence in the room,"
that’s when I caught the left eyelid,
...I told the fire to take it,
six cold months, like every morning,
and then again you caressing me, again you, and then again you caressing me, again you, and then again you caressing me, again you, and then again you caressing me, always you.