No te busques más en el umbral

You're wasting time thinking, thinking,
you're out of life playing and losing.
Your conscience eats you up in the void,
and what will the shadows say about your return.
Your being unintentionally will open in the light
will go without knowing they loved him.

Dogs wander in search of water,
and as time passes without fire, without fire.
Angel of the poor, little harmony
something has a dream in this insomnia.
Your being unintentionally will open in the light
will go without knowing they loved him.

You've already left your day looking for blackberries,
talking about the children who write in the sky.
Apocalypse of air, of air,
all that gold in your pockets ends.
Lost in the world, your being will hurt you in the end
stone-marked navel.

Don't look for yourself at the threshold
so they know the shape of your soul
and let the melody continue.