Los Patios Del Alma
La Trampa
The Patios of the Soul
Your voice reminds me of the sparrow
A mix of flight and wound
Wandering bird that goes
Cold afternoon poetry
Hopscotch of loneliness
On split tiles
Grey perfume of waiting
That flies through our lives
Whistling I wanted to find you
And I searched in Los Patios del Alma
Drowning fears I saw you
In your silence and your calm
Fly from that filthy yard
Where everything is humidity
There is an urban wind outside
There is a pulse in the city
Without wind, sky or sea, you sleep in the courtyards of the soul
You will be a desire for oblivion
In your silence and your calm
Leave the courtyard and the silence
What the storm portends
Leave the immigrant yard
There is a smell of the sea outside
