Detrás Del Tiempo
José Larralde
Behind Time
When the afternoon sets another leaf of the calendar on fire
Silence rains over my years
I walk alone, behind time through space
Without knowing myself, like a stranger
Not even the air notices the scent of grievances
Of innocence, of disillusion
I don't know if the climate of hope turns sour
I don't know, and for what?
Sometimes, with my mind kicking rubble
And a whistle on my lips as if to stop in a hurry
Some piece of conscience loose out there
That sometimes wants to escape from within
To search for I don't know what inside others
Sometimes I said, when the rubble
I kicked was my own garbage
And the whistle was the angel trying to pull me out
By the pulls of that black swamp we men call uncertainty
Between whistle and tari rari
I sang these verses
When life celebrates the way of calvaries
Shadows roll, eyes cry
I enter the world of the small alphabet
Where the sighs don't hurt as much
I die slowly, my old death is waiting for me, since that day of the first cry
Maybe tomorrow I'll laugh at all I've cried
I don't know, and for what?
