Poema Del Alma

The world is a poor poem that only the soul recites

Give me the bread that's left on your table
Give me the wine that's left in your jug
If they come from your hands so white
They don't seem like crumbs to me

If one day tired of kisses
Your steps bring you to my house
I will understand your silence
And wait for your crumbs tomorrow

The world doesn't understand love
The world doesn't understand anything
The world is a poor poem that only the soul recites
The world is a poor poem that only the soul recites

Loves like songs
Pains like sonatas
All float in the air
And are poems of the soul

And the soul doesn't understand my verses
It sells itself if you want to buy it
The soul believed that kisses
Were preludes to calm

And the world doesn't understand verses
The world doesn't understand anything
The world is a poor poem that only the soul recites
The world is a poor poem that only the soul recites

While sleeping I had two dreams
Dreaming I spoke out loud
And my voice got lost in the night
And my dreams died at dawn

And my dreams grew older
The night forgot my words, yes
And my room painted in black
Cried my poem of the soul

And the world doesn't understand dreams
The world doesn't understand anything
The world is a poor poem that only the soul recites
The world is a poor poem that only my soul recites