Quién Soy

Love has wanted that
stones come loose on the road
that there is no shoulder
or ditch to park
that every street that remains
forever to the same destination
here they don't fine because
speed no longer matters

If you want I'll give you the advice
of some poor friend
love is the worst enemy
that exists in the verb to love
that in the air I feel if it's good,
or a false affection
because the face is the mirror of the soul
as the saying goes

I'm not the voice of innocence
I'm the harsh reality
I'm the one who talks to you and squeezes you
the one who sometimes makes you cry
I'm the muse of the poet
my name is loneliness

Don't hide from me
it's not worth playing hide and seek
count to twenty,
thirty, eighty, ninety
I will find you
there are people who with their little advice
develop cysts
say that by distracting
the mind they will forget me

I am part of the sensations
that life has
that there are some who even
in their silence knew how to love me
but the ignorant always ends up pigeonholed
between pain and wound
forgetting that I am the mistress
of any well-being

I'm not the voice of conscience
I'm the harsh reality

I'm the one who talks to you and squeezes you
the one who sometimes makes you cry
I'm the muse of the poet
I'm the harsh loneliness

I carry in my hand nostalgia agony
memories sadness
silence diligence disagreement
impatience poverty
they are tenants of my body

I try I survive I walk
I leave as I please
I am the owner of the horns of the crazy
of the insult the hardship
of the dirty the broken
I am the harsh loneliness