(tango)
I saw your face that night ...
At the door of your house.
Cut in soft shades ...
diffuse shadows of the moon.
A line imperfect
cut your pretty face ...
With airs of "hypotenuse".
In the brightness of your eyes,
a mad stampede.
In the "timba" of this life,
I ran out of cards.
To play me for You,
I do not think the "As" to save me.
In a chaos of feelings cowards
a hole in my soul.
My hopes are becoming gigantic,
I wish, kiss the threshold of your home ...
I get stuck a stamp ...
Right on the "left handed" ...
I hear a bunch of "tied notes"
exhaling my fragile glass of "gin" ...
Smoke dissipates into heaven,
deep "batifondo" in my head.
Prayer is only a very timid action,
I kneel as an ascetic.
I do always the same ask ...
If it makes sense my ordeal.
I may not be reciprocated,
With your spells witch.
I "dropped the needle"
in the last "move" ...
But ... I request a rematch,
on the cold table "chess".
I am pleading, again ...
I let a chance ...
You left me without mercy the soul ... ...
open with an "opener" ...
Daniel H Guasti
"Timba" = to play
"batifondo"=chaos pisulinoal@yahoo.com.ar
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