Lo de Más

The least of it are all the secrets
that I sense, smell, touch, and always respect you.
The least of it is that I never stand out,
that your love enriches me making me poorer.
The least of it is that your feelings
do not match the schedule of my rebirth.
The least of it is long solitude,
the least of it is how much heart.

What matters least is my reason
the least of it is even your never,
while my love sings
trying to capture
the words that say the most.

Lovingly, in a way that doesn't stain,
in verse and melody I resort to revenge.
My spite will kiss life
wherever most lonely or most beloved.
Wherever you jump or turn
there will be a second of mine for you to sigh.
It's the pledge of long solitude,
it's the pledge of how much heart.

What matters least is my reason
the least of it is even your never,
while my love sings
trying to capture
the words that say the most.

Little bird, dolphin of my two roses,
scare away the blows and not the butterfly.
Exercise your dance on my waist,
incomparable aroma, oh bread of my madness.

With your body dressed by my hands
I will create a new childhood, on the edge of the ocean.
From the sea I tell you in solitude,
from the sea a heart throws it to you.

What matters least is my reason
the least of it is even your never,
while my love sings
trying to capture
the words that say the most.