Esto No Es Una Elegía

You remind me of the meadow of dreamers
The wall that separates us from the sea, if it's night
You remind me, sitting
Certain feelings
That you never know what they bring on their wings
Whether alive or dead

I take off my face and fold it
Over my pants
If I can't say your name
If it hides away
I don't want expression
My eyes tend to
Have imprinted
Their cheerful dreams

You remind me of the streets of Old Havana
The Cathedral submerged in its tile bath
You remind me of things, I don't know, the windows
Where the night singers sang
Love for Havana

This is not an elegy
Nor is it a romance, nor a verse
More like a thank you
For giving my longings
A reason for a kiss
A modest crown
Found in the dawn

You remind me of the world of a teenager
A scared little boy looking at people
An angel being questioned
A dream lying down
The curse, the blasphemy of a continent
And a bit of death