Elogio de la Soledad

At the bar
I saw once thinking
how much they deny and give the city, the woman
jeweled with light the window and the skin
pilgrims and strangers are seen
like rivers of love
light, color, and pleasure
perhaps a mirage of my being
I usually come from the countryside by the spell
of the city
with beautiful pupils puddles of stars
that slip away
through the fleeting silhouette vague and flirtatious alone and plural
always like herself, always a different copy of evil
where the luminous ones are labeling the darkness
we are all together, alone and apart from the others
when will I find solace in a little piece of solitude
that added to mine becomes joy, song, and singing
Loners of yesterday managed to found
through union and power and the city was born
but perhaps later, each one's power
above good and evil
and today that is beautiful and cruel
today that does not know how to love
the city is more alone than me
How much I return to the countryside next to the secret of the spring
with the bonfire it seems that solitude flourishes in me
every time I inaugurate the lone star or the storm
the stubbornness of the river or the twilight clamor
a dark sadness makes me pure and elemental
the faith with which I first assumed solitude
only from time to time I feel nostalgia for the city
when beautiful eyes become sorrow, song, and singing.
At the bar I saw once thinking
how much they deny and give the city, the woman.