You are a little cold drop of sweat
on my sleepy body in some strange nights,
repeatable dream or
haunting memory settled in depths of my bed.
How can I get you out of my chests
how can I forget melodies of your looks
will I ever be a free man,
free of memories and sorrow.
You shake my poetry
and write the words like an evil genius.
For the play, that takes too long
my dreams have no more time left, mi vida.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem