Todavia

I still don't believe it,
you're coming to my side
and the night is a handful
of stars and joy.
I touch, taste, listen, and see.
Your face, your long step, your hands
and, however,
I still don't believe it.
Your return has so much to do
with you and me
that by superstition I say it
and just in case I sing it.
No one ever replaces you
and the most trivial things
turn fundamental
because you're coming home.
Yet still
I can't believe my luck,
because having you in my life
seems like a fantasy.
But you come and it's certain.
And you come with your gaze.
And that's why your arrival
makes the future magical.
And although I haven't always understood
my faults and failures,
I know that in your arms
the world makes sense.
And if I kiss the audacity
and the mystery of your lips
there will be no doubts or remnants,
I will love you even more.