Now that adolecence is a long gone September,
beer fumes in a front door, an unfinished summer.
A few years at the faculty of sciences,
written papers, Cuban rum, grass leaves,
a dormant train on a dead track,
the light of a blue window that was always open.
Now that the beaches of Corfu are so far away,
the train stations in Prague, Hamburg or Istabul,
the journeys that brought others wearing our bodies,
the light of a coffee house, the converted loves.
Now that you get tired and the swimming pools are closing,
and the light of the stars squeezes in the last dip.
Now that I return to the places where I wanted to escape
and where nobody waits for me.
Now that I almost stretch to pay day,
that I love a woman.
That I love a woman.
Now that I pay bills, that I kissed with someone in Havana,
that I dream about Lacandona, that I no longer write letters,
that we keep more years than promises,
that our hearts sink like old Venice,
that I'm late at the movies and to the end of the world,
that I rent a small apartment in a sand castle.
Now that hangovers hurt and cut like a razor.
Now that nobody greet us anymore in the bars of Malasaña1,
that I ask for help, kisses and food on the phone,
that I smoke flowers and cry sometimes while I sleep.
Now that I tremble like an abandoned child.
Now that old friends have betrayed us.
Now is the time to start anew, let the carnival begin,
the orgy in the Winter Palace, of flags and kisses.
My wings fell and I didn't give up,
so come here,
let's toast, for today is always still,
for I never liked farewells.
