Fragilidad

Everything is fragile:
Your habit of loving me,
My faith,
The silence and the life that sleeps
in a train car.
Your fleeting contract,
The memory,
This thread of voice,
The chimeras that sail through straits
and this heart
that follows your trail
on the room's carpet.

The thunder of the rifle is not so fragile,
The fear
of losing your sweet mornings,
so much pain.
The memory of the bench,
The scent of oil in the sea,
The steel borders for men,
smoke for the capital
that regulates mirages
and orders your need.

I am fragile like glass
if you miss this appointment, my love,
if the song fills with forgetfulness,
if the memory goes away
and no longer laughs with me.
Maybe we are not heroes
but we are still alive
and in the chrysalis, her voice will burst.
And she will not remain motionless at the edge of the road
and will make her strong fragility into the future.

The embrace of the world and its peace is so fragile,
The promise from the platform
and its commitment to endure.
Proud and resistant
is the cry of fear announcing the end
and the night that so many chimneys spit out to the sky,
the shots of snow,
the roar of bayonets.

Maybe your habit of loving me is not so fragile,
My faith,
Your voice and your memory.
You know? Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe the thunder of the rifle, so much pain,
The bubble enclosing this scream
and this fear
of knowing myself lost,
of losing you and losing reason.

I am fragile like glass
if you miss this appointment, my love,
if the song fills with forgetfulness,
if the memory goes away
and no longer laughs with me.
Maybe we are not heroes
but we are still alive
and in the chrysalis, her voice will burst.
And she will not remain motionless at the edge of the road
and will make her strong fragility into the future.