Cánteme

Sing to me
whoever has the verse,
but not with the precious crystals,
because time is no longer a matter of rest
but a harsher crucible than smooth.

Sing to me
whoever has a song,
but not to cloud my senses,
and I, feeling like I am, am their friend,
and I, going as well, am a song.

Sing to me
yes, to be heard,
like that song, the one I made.
But sing to me
to applaud it for what it knew how to do
yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

Sing to me
to save it
among the lights that identify me.
But sing to me
to reward it
for being the best bird of the dawn.

Sing to me
whoever has a coat
where there is no room for vain fear.
Sing to me
even if it's not entirely healthy
but a song in the end and not a racket.

Sing to me
for here there are lungs
full of conquests from the past.
Sing to me
without shame and without care.
So sing to me
if you finally have reasons.