La luz de un fósforo

We met, you and I,
and to talk
we stopped.
You had something strange
when you were silent,
when you laughed...
Sentimental fencing
finally arose
that afternoon.
Then... so little remained!
The wind carried everything away...
The light of a matchstick was
our fleeting love.
It lasted so little... I know...
like the glow
that a star gives...
The light of a matchstick was,
nothing more,
our idyll.
Another illusion that leaves
the heart
and never returns.
In everything, the color is always
from the glass
through which it is seen.
I saw you in pink,
when you were silent,
when you laughed.
Then, with another glass,
the color changed
and you were no longer...
Life is all illusion
and the heart is a prism.