Borracho de la Madruga (cuantovaquere)

I don't want straw hats nor do I want...
You stole suns to mourn in spring,
breaks in gold paper,
robust signs shaded my daydream
and the chickpeas of my cold August
I ate them in a river cove
where there are no hats or summer left.
You contaminated the pretense of my wait,
the cuddles with envy,
you uninhabited with weed killer the frozen dawn
and the violets of my allergy
I sold from door to door
by will.

Because I don't wear straw hats
nor palm leaves for decoration
nor a tongue of skill
I'm a drunk at dawn.
And it's because I have no appetite,
I neither eat nor ask for the impossible
nor am I enchanted by you
a drunk at dawn.

You walled up the shacks of my image,
the reefs of my bedroom,
you touched my banner of nonsense
and the grapevines I gather slowly
I hid them because they carry your breath
from door to door
by will.

Because I don't wear straw hats
nor palm leaves for decoration
nor a tongue of skill
I'm a drunk at dawn.
And it's because I have no appetite,
I neither eat nor ask for the impossible
nor am I enchanted by you
a drunk at dawn.