Come closer and touch my face,
Open your eyes wider and face the wind,
Don’t look back, its dark.
Listen to how musical the winds are,
And how blue too,
Listen to your heartstrings,
They are composing a melancholy,
Wait for a moment and help yourself to comfort them,
Drink a few extra glasses of alcohol So that the next day,
We can blame the malt and the obscure memory,
And continue the game of charades,
Until the End of the day and the last whistle of the train,
We look around; to make sure we’re alone,
Who do we fear?
Except that figure in the mirror?