Debajo del Puente
Pedro Guerra
Under the Bridge
Under the bridge, in the river
there's a world of people,
below, in the river, on the bridge.
And above the bridge
the pending things,
the people passing by,
looking but not feeling.
Tomatoes, lettuces
and bread from the market,
I love you, I hate you,
you have me tired.
And above the bridge
the usual things,
I don't want to look at you,
I don't want to love you,
coffee with sugar,
lottery and forgetfulness,
who knows about the world
under the river.
Under the bridge, in the river
there's a world of people,
below, in the river, on the bridge.
And above the bridge
the street, the school,
the children, the shouts,
you leave without a kiss,
your love and the traffic jam,
hurries me,
the days that pass,
the shit you step on.
And above the bridge
eight o'clock with cold,
yours is yours,
mine is mine,
signs and bags,
snatches and forgetfulness,
anyone sells you
a ticket to the river.
Under the bridge, in the river
there's a world of people,
below, in the river, on the bridge.
And above the bridge
there are those above,
there are those below,
which is less than above,
and then there's the bridge,
which is less than below.
I think about my home,
my love, my work.
Under the bridge, in the river
there's a world of people,
below, in the river, on the bridge
