2020.12.11.
Life without you
[spoken]1I think it's time for your song to Valencia.
You were afraid of this moment.
Confess it: you were afraid.
You were afraid of the moment of your song to Valencia.
You wanted to sing it without solemnity,
without the Mediterranean, without Greeks or Latins,
without stonecutters and without monuments.
You wanted to sing it in a humble way,
with chastity, we'd say.
You saw the song: it was growing.
Slowly you saw it growing like the twilight.
The night was coming, you wouldn't write the song.
[sung]
Life is a morning every day
when I picked you up.
A black hoodie, wide jeans,
a faded mural.
Life is a class in Philology
where we shook the tomorrow
A red sun sneaking into the assembly,
dirty notes, golden hair.
Life is a Thursday that'd end
in your student apartment.
Four yellow candles in the kitchen,
naked shadows, broken plates.
Life is a blue sky towards noon
when we went up to the roof.
A song by
Valencia between white bed sheets
Life is closing your eyes, laughing again,
shouting to the wind, feeling free.
Life is wishing to be born again,
running alone, feeling how you grow.
Life is the face-cutting cold
and a tear setting fire to the cheeks.
Life is understanding that I have to learn,
learn to live
life without you.
Life is biting the sweet fruit
in the stairs of the