Más o Menos Antes

More or less before
There wasn't much to defend
A cat, a window
And some rains on paper

More or less before
Before meeting you there was no mystery
Of who renews dawns
Without the habit of cold winters

But I have to get used
To you being my Sunday at home
And understand that sadness
After so much became my ally

That the disease of the century
Shakes me with this mist
Now that we are castaways on the Moon