(Esp-Eng) Poema: Sin saber de amaneceres / Poem: Unaware of Dawns.
Fue imposible quitarnos lo divino,
juntarnos en la furia de lo ingrato,
sentir el despertar del buen vino
y apartar de nuestros rostros cada herida.
No sabíamos de amaneceres,
pero sí de placeres.
Eso era lo más triste de nuestro superpoder:
solo estar para no prevalecer.
English version
We couldn’t shed the divine,
lost in the fury of the ungrateful,
feeling the good wine come alive,
erasing every wound from our faces.
We knew no dawns,
only pleasures.
That was the curse of our power—
to exist, but never endure.
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