the ones

the ones who die go away and stay
the ones who run almost always arrive
but they keep on running
obssesed
the ones who do not run everybody knows they fly
the ones who eat live breed and die
the ones who do not eat become thin like numbers
and die
the ones who take their time take your time
the ones who play pretend that only their play matters
that’s why playing is not always possible
the ones who lie postpone the agony
and that’s why we lie to ourselves
the ones who climb the mountains return covered in clouds
the ones who break the moulds are vital
the ones who breed them and worship them and sell them
/are inevitable and will be forgotten
the ones who drink to excess keep their bodies disinfected
the ones who overdress are afraid of something
the ones who bark at the moon are moonstruck dogs
the ones who speak to themselves do not discuss important matters
the ones who sleep hope not to be awaken
the ones who love know the world will come to an end
the ones who broke the silence won’t be able to fix it

mental killer

i’ve got all the weapons
but I am not going to use them
there are so many people to kill that it seems unreal
so many people who are still alive that should be dead
so many women who deserve to be killed
so many figures who should not be
poor old people who would rather die
and nobody help them out
and so, so many
countless
annoying
children

loneliness

when I have time
i invite myself to dinner and go over my life
between sip and bite
i stroke my old table and make questions to myself
and now and then I answer them
a poet once said that eating
is talking secretly with the spring

thorns

(Versión de Laura Dolagaray)

you are a little girl and you get a thorn on your finger
you cry and you ask your mom and dad for help
they pick you up and they heal you and they wash your face and they do you hair
they give you a candy and they talk to you about something else
you look again for another thorn

you are a grown-up girl and love hurts you
you are alone and you find no comfort
you take out your sorrow very gently
you take a bath you do you hair you look at yourself in the mirror
you look again for another thorn

thorns

(Versión de Fabiana Videla)

you’re a little girl and you stick a thorn in your hand
you go crying to your mom or dad
they pick you up and treat the wound and comb your hair again
they give you candy and talk to you about something else
you go again looking for another thorn

you’re a grown-up girl and love hurts you
you’re alone and without consolation
you slowly pull out the sorrow
you wash you comb your hair you look at yourself in the mirror
you go again looking for another thorn