When tenderness blooms in my words
When the memory of your face
Begins to blend with the last tears of whisky
When tenderness sounds like an Stradivarius
Lost in the middle of a heartless blizzard
And my blood sings a blues in the dark
When I ask myself what are these
Verses written in smoke
That disaster of words naked like bones
In a junkyard
And the vultures are the only birds at dusk
And all the churches are just crippled stone
Against the bloody sky of a nightmare
What tenderness? What words? What love? What poetry
Takes place in the dull mirror of my days?
Your pictures are but ashes that the wind
Takes from my trembling hand
I walk alone. Winter will have no mercy.
Wolves are smiling in the heart of the city.
And I can´t see bonfires in the night.