Love Song IV

If you only knew
how cold it gets,
even when two hours back
it was so hot.

If you only knew
how sweet it feels
at the same spot it used to hurt.

If you only knew
how afraid I am
of telling my truths, even when they can't harm.

Will you run away too if I fall in love too much?

If you only knew
that by your very side
I find myself alone.

And if you knew,
would a thing change? No.
I will always be the same lone bitch, wishing she was a wolf.

Love Song III

Lovely loving lover,
loving me,
the clover;
don't you see how others look at me?

Lovely you that covers
in the cold and dark,
how I fear the night when it'll be over.

Would you ever not kiss me?
Would you ever not desire to be within this soul of mine?

Could you ever be less loving than you are?

Release you / Love Song II

Oh, thief! Hunting down
here you are!
Talking to me about love
like you know what is that!
How logical is not to share
the best thing you've got?

Glaring at me with a look
that beheads so hot,
like I was stealing your light spot,
like I am someone to boo.

Isn't love memorable?

Lacing me up and saying
it's me that laces you.
What do you do in my house!
You hippie! You fool!

Isn't love unbuyable?

Begging me to release you
when it's you caging yourself.
In circles flies the same one bird
thinking it's being chased.

Isn't love uncontainable?

And tell me bird,
don't your wings weigh?
Can't you spare your powder in the sand
on some sparrow date?

I tell you, the dove isn't afraid
of touching the earth,
and love isn't a thing
for you to wear.

Love Song

Oh sister of mercy,
lay your hands on me,
'cause no one else will do.

Since I'm a liar,
my only prayer
is to be embraced by you.

Since you're my sister
and I'm your brother,
our mother will nurture.

Since we share bodies,
in spite of others,
as one we will be due.

Since the void's filling full,
we both know God is Love
and Love is merciful.

Deseo terrenal IV

Quisiera que, al escribiros, os escindieseis de mí. ¿Por qué, si os libero, me decidís perseguir? Yo digo: no os aguanto más en esta casa; y os abro la puerta para que salgáis al sol que os dibujará. Y salís, y tomáis forma; nacéis para el mundo y el mundo os recibe como a todas las cosas. Ya no más errar por los interiores, ya no más estar diluídas con las sombras; sin embargo no marcháis del marco de la puerta y miráis hacia atrás, curiosas, como preguntándome a dónde vais a ir. ¡Yo que sé! ¡Solo idos! Porque cansa vivir así. Por la noche hacéis mucho ruido y yo necesito dormir.
Me atraviesa vuestra mirada el corazón como una daga, y siento el hierro oxidándose dentro prontamente al tocar mi sangre oxigenada. Rápida, mas largamente, ensuciais con vuestra insistencia mi alma y siento que debo pedir perdón, aún cuando sois vosotras las que ofendisteis a Dios en el hogar, y queréis salir indultadas. Me pregunta que qué hacemos y le digo, ya no lo sé, ¡nadie me dijo cómo criarlas! ¿Cómo voy a ser, con estas heridas que no curan, inmaculade? ¿Bienaventurade, yo, que engendro cosas tan poco santas? Y por favor, no me tomes por ingrate. Yo quisiera perdonarlas, pero mira cómo me matan, cómo lo intentan en la misma entrada de mi casa.