I woke up thirsty in an absent world…

with a body numb from dreaming of losing you…

The sky is still gray ice, like your lifeless heart,

cold, empty, hesitant, impatient…

My clothes undress me, my coffee makes me sleepy…

nothing warms me, nothing enriches me… all blows my mind…

My train escapes, my metro does not arrive, everyone seems absent…

These Mondays are nothing more than stamps,

of this impossible and penitent winter…

of that distant spring, of that burning summer…

I travel with my silent destiny, you with your insolent truth…

Perhaps blood does not unite us, perhaps not even the recumbent grave…

I travel with my hidden silence, you… with your infidel pride.

Don’t cross my path, not in this raucous battle…

follow your path and punishment, that the future won’t be the only blind.