(tango)
I go on the run,
for the back rows.
In your correspondence,
and you do not sign me.
I will not beg a word,
or go away.
Your move back ...
I can not convince me.
I can not find the pin of luck ....
In the "haystack" ... of your indifference ...
My interest in your beauty,
harvest no recognition.
The overvaluation that I will deliver,
I was drained through a hole.
That hole is leaking ...
And every time I'm farther away.
Now is miles ...
If you run, do not reach ...
Sometimes I think I'm close,
but then I get frustrated.
I do not know with which speech
I can consider ...
It makes me doubt that I will,
if you take me "the point" ...
If I go with reality,
I feel I'm a "two Parsec" ...
I do not know more and to enter thee,
in the art of seduction.
I do not want to lose control,
having to stoop.
Every now and let me messages,
not reach their destination,
I feel like "zapatearte" ...
a heated "Malambo" in front of you.
I would like to express my feelings ...
but I can not find the "Weighing" ...
My distance ... always "two Parsec" ...
From there my poor play "chances" ...
"zapatearte"= taping... (tap)
"Malambo" = argentine folk ....normally with tap
1 "parsec" = about 3 years light
Daniel H Guasti
