My Eight Year Old Had Aching Legs

napping, dancing at the party
,
swimming in the sea,
smoking after coffee,
smoking after following the afternoon.

When lit at night in the bush,
when crossed my city by car, while sounding
casset ...
you with his voice hoarse with Jac ... Brel approaches.

myself in your eyes, hear you talk, let me comb
instead of thinking, let me
embraced by anyone who knows
lie, hard to kiss.

Back to your arms, feel your rejection, until I was hoarse shouting
,
mourn until I between thirst, drink a good wine

and poderme eat a grilled steak.

one hundred thousand hours sleep, to dream that I want and not hurt me
the pinch,
back find you by my side, and hold back
desayunarte,
this really is art.