Fiel como una condena, a cada tarde,
la blanca soledad del soñador acude.
Nada puede impedir que se desnude
la mirada que en su corazón arde.
Por razones serenas cada tarde
la cal azul de su pensar sacude.
El no da lugar a que se escude
quien recorre el camino del cobarde.
El no quiere pasar sin verse a solas
con su suerte, descubrir su pasado,
saber cuanto de este se ha olvidad,
cuanto sigue presente entre las olas.
El sabe que hay un futuro si te creces
y eso vino a decirle a sus diez meses.
Ten months.
Faithful as to a conviction, each afternoon
the white solitude of a dreamer arrives.
Nothing can stop the undressing
of the look which in his heart burns.
For reasons serene, each afternoon
rock the blue lime of his thought.
He is not given a place to hide,
who walks the road of the coward.
He does not wish to pass by without seeing himself
alone with his luck, to discover his past,
to know how much of it has forgotten,
how much still remains between the waves.
He knows there is a future if he evolves
and that is what he came to say to his ten months.
11 de julio de 1999.
