Batzutan

Days, hours
sounds, echoes
in crowded streets
people walking
I don't see you.

What am I different in
they don't care,
and you don't mind
Nothing... Nothing...

There are few places left for me
to lose papers
and not to act

I am constantly asking
what am I doing
living or enduring?
And what... and what...

Sometimes the itch
I go with you
above the roof
I paint the stars
in the color of rust
when no one sees me

I don't like it either
overcoming the line
in difficult times

In the mirrors of the bathrooms in the communities,
the reflection I have

But being alone
turning off the lights,
I become glassy

Sometimes I break
in thousands of pieces
I keep them alone
in hidden places
where no one can find them
among the most beautiful words
sometimes I am yours
and in the shadow of others

Dress and ask for body and soul,
kiss but don't ignite
the light, why is it so difficult
to accept
what it is to live what it is

And Sometimes I break
in thousands of pieces
I keep them alone
in hidden places
where no one can find them
among the most beautiful words
sometimes I am yours
the wind's in others
not in me... not in me...
even in others