El Cigarrillo

Last night I was talking with my cigarette,
I felt tired, tired and bored,
my world is so sad, so lonely and so empty
that sometimes it seems to me that I don't even exist.

I lit it slowly and took a puff,
then watching as the smoke dissipated
I remembered so many things I thought forgotten
and I told it all while I smoked it.

I talked to it about you and my yearnings,
I told it about your kisses and my hopes,
I told it about your forgetfulness, I told it about my tears
and about what was lived that has now turned to nothing.

I said that it's possible that no one wants me
because I have tried to live my way,
because I have perhaps refused to pay that tribute,
of baseness and sin, that the world demands of us today.

Maybe I'm finished, life has defeated me,
I have lived, fought, cried and suffered
and what have I gained by being so understanding,
living desperate in an empty world.

Last night I was talking with my cigarette
and after finishing it, I stayed thinking
that in this sad verse, which is the world I live in,
it's the only friend I have left.