Él habla de un país donde los poetas escapan.
Otros pudieran decir lo mismo,
pero no tienen el valor.
No lo sabe,
le respeto
a pesar de ser
quien primero intentó hundirme con sus valoraciones,
a pesar de ser
con quien te he visto brillar de veras.
Sí,
tu luz es diferente junto a él
y no lo digo con doble discurso,
no lo digo con dolor.
Él habla de un país que se desangra,
no diré nada sobre mí.
Me aparto
y dejo que su ternura
tenga la última
palabra.
He speaks of a country where poets flee.
Others could say the same,
but they lack the courage.
He doesn't know it,
I respect him
despite him being
the one who first tried to bring me down with his judgments,
despite him being the man
with whom I've seen you
truly shine in a photograph.
Yes,
your light is different next to him,
and I don't say this with ulterior motives,
I don't say it with pain.
He speaks of a country bleeding,
I won't say anything about myself.
I simply step aside
and let his tenderness
have the last
word.
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