Él

The man has a woman inside, sleeping, deep within.
Every time he gets drunk, the girl inside him wakes up.

I've known him for a while, and we get along just fine.
He respects me, and I respect him; I think he knows that I know
that he knows he lives behind a door that,
when sober, he doesn't dare to open. I know he lives
trapped behind a gaze that only knows how to suggest.
Hiding the why, his way of feeling,
his awareness of being different from me.
When, drunk, his other side escapes,
I silently welcome it, because I know being a witness is my role.

I know that by trusting me, he also gives me
the hope of finding in me a loyal friend.
Someone who understands that the drinks bring out the woman,
below, asking for him to be understood, by me.

My friend has a woman inside, sleeping within.