Dos Horas Después
Joaquín Sabina
Two Hours Later
The afternoon consumed its fleeting then
Without flesh, without sin, without perhaps
The night gathers like a bird
About to migrate
And the world is a boiling of seashells
Fasting from pepper, laughter, and salt
And the Sun is a tear in an eye
That doesn't know how to cry
Your back is the sunset of September
A map without reverse or going back
A drop of brandy accustomed
To the disdain of the sea
And in the end the calendar and its ushers
Dissecting the craft of dreaming
And the spur in the corner tavern
And the vice of forgetting
Through the line of the heart
Every morning a train derails
And at the end, back to the beginning
Two hours after dawn
Life has a languid argument
That is never fully learned
Tastes like liquor and a disheveled Moon
That doesn't quench the thirst
The night has consumed its bottles
Leaving a shred on the wall
The days have passed like pages
Of unread books
