Canción Cósmica

At least this time
I'm fed up with this love
from the angel of the end
even if I have to go back
to the damn depression
I will keep filling myself
with airs, abyssal
from your boreal hymen,
from the sign of some star.
Vile human no being;
can walk around
letting themselves be carried away.
And so far I only know,
that half of the things were true,
and the other half true, airs
but what else will it be.
What else will it be if not airs,
of this genital love,
nourished by skillful mothers,
by unfathomable hands, I lost like this,
now I live in dreams, of airs...

Another winter in this fate,
another flight under the sial
and the anchor of voice.
Someone who travels to me,
comes in their mother ship
through the buildings
of airs.
They will bring something;
but something is now being taken from me
when the weapons of the sun,
hurt your shadows.
You will stop playing, to look at me.
Before I do,
for there are, in your iris, hands,
that take airs from my soul
and from this genital love
nourished by skillful mothers,
by unfathomable hands, I lost like this,
now I live in dreams, of airs...