Tú me echas
Me dejaste.
El calor de los recuerdos de esos momentos
Vividos, pero ya muertos
Vienen como “Walking dead”
Para atormentarme.
Tú sólo de violín, martillea
Mi redoble de tambor silba tenue
El color del cielo, maldice
Con bello color
Mi existencia.
Porque; no hay nada que se parezca
Al sufrimiento
De no tenerte cerca en mi corazón, por más que padezca.
Texto Manu Cueva y foto.
Dedicado al desamor que nos hace mejores o peores.
There is nothing left between us
You throw me out
I left off.
The warmth of the memories of those moments
Lived, but dead
They come as "Walking Dead"
To torment me.
You just violin, hammered
My faint hissing drum roll
The color of the sky, curse
With beautiful color
My existence.
Because there is nothing resembling
the suffering
If not have you close in my heart, even if you have.
Text and photo Manu Cueva.
Dedicated to the indifference that makes us better or worse.
You throw me out
I left off.
The warmth of the memories of those moments
Lived, but dead
They come as "Walking Dead"
To torment me.
You just violin, hammered
My faint hissing drum roll
The color of the sky, curse
With beautiful color
My existence.
Because there is nothing resembling
the suffering
If not have you close in my heart, even if you have.
Text and photo Manu Cueva.
Dedicated to the indifference that makes us better or worse.
2 comentarios:
No hay que sufrir. Hay demasiados ojos...
Abrz.
Hay que disfrutar, que la vida es corta y esos ojos...
Saludos.
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