Ahora Que...
Joaquín Sabina
Now That...
Now that we kiss so slowly
Now that I learn ballroom dances
Now that a pension is a palace
Where there is never a lack of space
For more than one heart
Now that the florists greet me
Now that I become a lingerie doctor
Now that you undress me and I undress you
And, in the station of doubts
A suburban train dies
Now that we stay in bed
Monday, Tuesday, and holidays
Now that I don't remember my pajamas
Nor do I cut out the crossword puzzle
Nor do I kill myself if you leave
Now that I have a soul
That I didn't have
Now that applause sounds
For joys
Now that nothing is sacred
And, on wet ground
It still rains
Now that we make waves
Just to annoy
Now that loneliness is so lonely
Loneliness
Now that, all the stories
Seem like the story
That never begins
Now that we put on another and what should be
Now that the world is freshly painted
Now that storms are so brief
And griefs don't dare
To hurt us too much
Now that oblivion is so far away
Now that I perfume myself every day
Now that, without knowing, we have known
To love each other, as it should be
Without loving each other yet
Now that weeks collide
Fleeting, like stars of Baghdad
Now that, almost always, I feel like
Climbing to your window
And taking off my mask
Now that the senses
Feel without fear
Now that I say goodbye
But I stay
Now that the eyes touch
That look at the mouths
That shout the fingers
Now that there are no vaccines
Nor litanies
Now that the police are on the Moon
Now that cars explode
That I dream at night
That I sleep during the day
Now that I don't write to you
When I leave
Now that I am more alive
Than I am
Now that nothing is urgent
That everything is present
That there is bread for today
Now that I don't ask you
For what you give me
Now that I don't measure myself
Against others
Now that, all the stories
Seem like the story
That never begins