El Derrotado
Miguel Aceves Mejía
The Loser
That I'm a loser
that I go through this world
causing feelings
to those who see you live.
That I suffer from your absence
that I cry for your kisses
that's what they've told me
that you tell everyone about me.
That I live in the bars
that I sleep wherever
in the end, I'm a outcast
who will soon die.
And I, who am the same
who was cradled in your arms
receive your news
and don't know what to say.
Why is it always the woman
when she stops loving
she despises and curses us
because she can't stand it
if she had to cry
why the hell doesn't she say it?
And even if I don't complain
about all your insults
what the poet said
I'm going to repeat to you.
There are birds that cross the swamp
and don't get dirty
and you, woman
my plumage is like those.
Why is it always the woman
when she stops loving
she despises and curses us
because she can't stand it
and if she had to cry
why the hell doesn't she say it?
And even if I don't complain
about all your insults
what the poet said
I'm going to repeat to you.
There are birds that cross the swamp
and don't get dirty
and you, woman
my plumage is like those.
