Cold War
English Version
My stewed crop dries up,
And the few fruits that are left have no taste anymore.
I can no longer write,
But if I don’t live again,
I won’t have much left to build.
I confessed to you between July and October,
You kept insisting,
I told you with all uncertainty
I didn’t think this was going to succumb.
Now you dazzle without shame,
Without me to have you,
And you won’t let me be anything but your painter.
I confess that I no longer want to write,
Because I have only scattered verses left,
And even if I still had ink left over,
My eyes would be lost in her canvases.
Now you’re next, the smooth-skinned one,
That preferred me, even without a smile.
We were gold in the Sunday glow,
The streets were complicit in our madness and extravagance,
We were lost in laughter until the night came,
No one knew the secret was trust.
I can’t give any more details,
Because I’ve confessed enough,
Only that she’s from the streets,
And I’m just a dumb teenager.
Yet none of this was corresponding,
I didn’t do right, I hurt and wound,
Chaos returned, like a latent disease,
I had lost my most precious ruby.
You didn’t read my last letter,
You didn’t read my last poem,
And despite the inconvenience,
We always find each other when we forget us.
Let the past die,
That’s what I learned,
There are still doors to be opened,
A whole future for melting.
I’ll try harder, I promised you,
Damn maze, I always get lost in it,
As much as I ignore you, I can’t do without you,
You entered my heart, which I defended until death.
