Méritos y Merecimientos
Fernando Cabrera
Merits and Deserts
When it comes to you
I am left speechless,
Oh, my old shyness!
That lurks in speech;
When it comes to you,
breeze, canoe of the air
that carries my song
made a whistling that travels.
When I run out of voice
in front of your waiting eyes
I can't find my footing with my modesty
and I immerse myself in the fog,
and for the umpteenth time
I end up drowned in fear
in a lake of terror
that you sail enchantress.
Upon waking from the heat
that your eyes produce in me,
the brown is still there
browning my outline,
reproducing the color
of shadow, foliage color
in this sunless autumn
that overwhelms just like the others.
Today I stop to think
if I deserve the miracle
of hearing you breathe
some night in my room,
reproducing the taste
of those wild dreams
in which dreaming of you
I would relive at times
