Son Oscuro

Thick wind
hits you in the face
life in a hurry,
rolling stone,
and you in your magical calm.

Violent mirror,
my song speaks to you,
reaches your shore,
and in your silences
you turn pale.

When my soul is squeezed
it longs for palm and mamey pulp
and moved in its roots it jumps
pouring a cup of coffee into the water.

I wanted to hide my soul,
I wanted to hide my soul
but it can be seen.
Now there is no mystery,
now the mystery
got away from me.
I wanted to hide my soul
but it can be seen.
There is no mystery anymore,
the mystery
got away from me.
I wanted to hide my soul
but it can be seen.
and where I said two
it's not one, but three.

Crafty invention
the one that ties you,
opens its grave,
comes and settles,
like an invalid debt.

Old accent
of the word,
the universe of what I feel,
makes a tragic grimace.

The night is the second homeland
closed with a golden clasp that dream,
put its darkness in the word
but even so, it illuminates what is.