(Tango)
The harsh cry that rises up,
lost in the crowd.
I reached him, to hear,
within a cascade of hallucinations.
For more, your cries,
you're crying for me.
We both know it's too late,
the song, and can not be redeemed ...
There are issues, pasts and irrevocable ...
"Bulls", who have been trapped in the sieve.
Prophecies in our future,
wanting to twist, to reality.
It was outrageously experiential
history, when we wrapped.
Now, I struggle in the depths,
lovelorn with a caravan of shadows.
It was only a word, you name it,
hidden, murmuring faded.
Believing, off balance,
each time, I hallucinate more.
My mind is very effective,
to confuse you into my dreams.
Since I ran around the ball,
what you left me with dignity.
I spent, ease ...
With that I "estibaba", all your reasons ...
There backlights, which, however, will precede,
project and are responsible for your silhouette.
In an old wall, lying,
to try, to convince.
Some colors of your sky is unrecoverable,
Many disagreements, give me ...
With you always, there is a fog that confuses you ..
And that permanently ... searches in my poor mind ...
"estibaba" = had stowage
Daniel H Guasti
pisulinoal@yahoo.com.ar
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