Saturday, June 25, 2005
You’ve been gone a long time, but hearing your name still causes my thoughts to turn to you. The theme seems to always be “things I loved about her,” perhaps because I still love you and dream of your return. You remain an essential part of my life, and my life is not worth living if I’m not to be cherished and understood by you.
Si tú supieras
Si tú supieras
Si tú supieras
Si tú regresas
Si tú supieras
Posted by at 8:00 pm [Permalink]
Sunday, April 10, 2005
I was born like a bird without its wings, condemned to an abysm that even the strongest of beings would not withstand. When I take my last breath, who’s to bring a flower to my tomb? Am I to die as I live, devoid of joy and love? Who — devoured by sorrow — will shed tears on my burial plot? I’m not loved while I’m alive, so who’s to love me when I die?
I don’t ask for much. In fact, I beg for anything but a solemn funeral. Avoid the wailing and the black garments. Furthermore, avoid sculpting me a marble tombstone bearing an epitaph that overestimates my doings in life.
Instead, I desire a single tear and a subtle sigh. A tear conceived in the chest and shed by the eyes of a friend who’s truly sincere. A sigh subtly exhaled by the one woman who’ll be genuinely afflicted over my death. Aside from that, I simply want a small burial plot, a humble cross, and a brief remembrance.
Never before held back neither by chains nor tears, today I seek peace and quiet. Once a hummingbird that had at its disposal the most beautiful of flowers, I now crave nothing but your eyes, your arms, and your lovingness. Forgive me for having taken too long to come to my senses. Forgive this wanderer who’s finally ready to settle down and offer you his heart. Let’s love one another with the devotion that I failed to make mutual in the past.
And when I die, I want neither somberness nor wails of sorrow. I want nothing but tranquility. If someone’s to be afflicted by my death, let it be you, the one woman I truly loved. If you still remember me by then, shed a tear on my death plot, and follow it with a prayer, but as you leave the cemetery, in God’s name, I plead that you forget I ever existed.
Nací condenado al precipicio
Quien cuando me muera
Quien dolorido a mi tumba
Y cuando yo haya muerto,
Yo quiero sólo una lágrima
Y que brote un suspiro
Yo que fui del amor ave de paso;
Ni cadenas ni lágrimas me ataron
Hay ausencias que triunfan
Y cuando yo me muera
Sólo tú, corazón,
Que no me vengan a ver
No quiero angustias ni nervios
Posted by at 11:42 am [Permalink]
Saturday, September 11, 2004
Give me a live performance of this song (a man’s voice and his guitar will do) at a beach in Acapulco and you’ll have me pensive… very pensive.
Afraid to end up alone, and having had nightmares of you never returning, I have to ask you to please never forget me, no matter how far you are from me. Promise me that you’ll always carry me in your heart and that you won’t allow anyone else to call himself your lover. If you keep me in your mind and heart, I promise you, in return, that the possibility of our relationship’s rebirth will always exist.
Posted by at 12:13 am [Permalink]
Wednesday, September 8, 2004
That night when you and I lied along the beach, the wind and sea caressed you and the moon revered you. Not satisfied with having done that, the wind wanted to make your scented breath its own, the sea wanted to carry you away, and the moon wished to have you in its dream. Had it been up to me, and being in the most generous of moods, I would have granted the moon, the wind, and the sea anything and everything they wanted of you, except for one thing; any bit of love that you are to have for a man. That I would have kept for myself.
Sé que te acarició el mar;
Que la noche me robe si quiere la luz de tu sangre.
Que me roben el mar y la noche, la luna y el viento
Posted by at 9:25 pm [Permalink]
Monday, September 6, 2004
At the age of seven or eight, I had already developed an interest in love music. Who’s to be blamed? My mother. She’d play the phonograph record of [Dueto] Blanco y Negro on the consola and the music rubbed off on me. It may have been more than fifteen years since I had heard their music, and when I heard it again last night I knew I had to find a way to transfer the songs from the skipping, hissing phonograph record to my computer. Done deal.
An evening together on the bay of Acapulco — just you and me — contemplating the magnificent sea, watching the waves clash, vanish, and resurge to kiss once more. Like the waves of a tumultuous sea, I want our lips to kiss and unleash our inhibited passion.
Posted by at 4:06 pm [Permalink]