Cuando Despierto

Last night I dreamed
that I was at my funeral,
talking to everyone
and they were happy
like the noise of a train.

My twenty skeletons
swollen with air
were stuck
in the sky
like the noise of a train.

In its place, perched
my coffin,
it opened as if laughing.
Inside was the day
I was born
and a bust of Vallejo.
Under my mother's telephone
there was a sun
like the ones children draw.

And the loyal friends
were there.
And the old loves
were there.
And my dead grandparents
were there.
And my cloth boots
were there.

When I got up,
my floorboards
creaked with the sound
of threshing dust
on a rainless day.

And at one end
I lifted the box
almost asleep
from the whole night
yawning coffee.

The street was clear
like yesterday,
without the slightest warmth.
No one turned their head
to see
as I passed by.
I returned home afterwards
I lay down
and dreamed of today.

And in the dream I dreamed
of writing the song.
And in the dream I dreamed
of this day yesterday.
But I didn't wake up
and had to make
from that dream to this life
until waking up.