El Pacto Roto

(To Ricardo García.)

Through all the paths of the night you approach me
to lick my dreams, to sow insomnia in me,
to keep my heavy eyelids open
and as the world clears, I wonder how far
I should have let you enter suddenly
through that open door.

Of all that flies, only the air is yours,
of all that swims, only the water is yours,
of all that runs, only the dust is yours
and the doubt is reversed, burning me
if it makes any sense now that I want to close
that open door.

But then, what do we do
that we return to each other
half of the life
we took from the other?
And you don't let me close
my door and fall asleep
with a soul burned
by your pact of fire?

Through all the paths of the night you approach me
made of stone and dust, of pale fears,
of countless delays, of calm anguish
and yet nothing happens and in my chest
I feel a prickling glow because it seems like you're walking*
but you never arrive.

* In the cassette