De La Canilla

In your hermit's den
you still lack
the little underwear hanging
from the tap in the bathroom
you've spent too many years
avoiding the issue

With deep arguments
worthy of a Dalai Lama
and you still have the bed
as cold as a corpse

When you're asked
about your marital status
you don't know what to say
if single or divorced
on sacred Fridays
you go out to paint the town

Ten liters of gas in the car
and a round through the fields
to see what comes up
to put a fitting end

Average profile heartthrob
acting like a big shot
when you reach the counter
with your summer stride
what you dream, brother
is hard to find

I know it's tough to endure
the Sunday loneliness
and that soccer and horse racing
are starting to fall short

It's true that friends
are the greatest in the world
and also that deep down
in your soul, you're with me
listen to what I say
get it into your head

That sadness doesn't go away
by hopping on any train
you need a woman
instead of a thousand princesses

Don't think it's advice
what can I teach you
if I'm much worse off than you
my memories are old
look straight in the mirror
in the bathroom cabinet
the jar of disillusionment
no longer has pills
try to make it simple
this could be your year

Kiss her as you know
indulge in the poetry
of living in company
of the woman you love
convince yourself you can
don't go to Seville
or you'll lose the seat
and the most beautiful joy
of finding the little underwear
hanging from the tap