Azulejos [English translation]

Still the same morning

Still the same waking up

alone in the dirty sheets, fuck!

In the dirty sheets where I sleep

still dreaming of my teeth that are falling

- this time there were also nail clippings

some dried blood

the other day I threw up some broken glass

I'll finish filing them - but it's too late, too late

at the moment I'm picking these teeth separated by tobacco

with the tip of these fingers yellowed by tobacco

I'm feeling this breath aged by tobacco

to exit these lips that won't swallow anything -

or just two three fevers, cans and washed-out pitchers

during these nights

curled up in a ball

when my bones appear translucent

When my heart thumps and punches, clear

against my skin

Still the same tears

and I find myself making them fall on the cigarette that's smoking

I spend my time crying doesn't matter when

crying in my bed, crying on the can, crying under the shower

but above all not in front of others, no, that would be rotten

There are writers who know how to make this beautiful

all I can do is to spend the day smoking like a chimney

smoking like a chimney, my arse screwed on the chair, to break

these pathetic smiles that smell of incense

these yellow smiles of a scammer, always with these colourless teeth and lips and this so dried-up tongue stuck against my palate

I can barely stop the wheezy breathing

I prefer also to turn my pale face and clear my throat and swallow up in my fenced sink of a mouth my black slimy wads, my sighs, and then look in the mirror, I poke my trap, I poke my gums

I'd like -

I'd like to kick me in the trap, to kick me in the gums

just to jolt the whine-bag that I am

If this evaporates to rejoin the nothingness

if this becomes everything, it's time

time alone that ends up saying it:

A relationship, it's a potential left for the future

but for me, the sky fell down like a lid

with a simple gesture, she closed the circle again

and all I'm left with is an empire of wind and dust

where you don't know how to laugh, where you don't know that the stone

the city isn't but a mass grave, maybe an island, nothing else to do

than to look at them draining beside other things its wounds, and the cracks on its shoreline

But why is it that I should still bleed?

I already feel sufficiently drained

She had to remember that she no longer loved me

the only desire that she left me with was sleeping with my brother

everything will be fine - the pain comes, the pain goes

you're getting there

Like the rubbish rise back to the surface

you wake up one morning without this sour smell, this smell of more (of the same)

you realise that suffering is always better than death

it's also less definitive

I have no desire, I have no desire, I have no desire to continue tracing the perimeter of my life

I still have a few miles left and a few desires

I can still go flying far away on the smoke

until the canopy turns blue

and I can still steal some living, burn my eyes

to stop the sun from setting

maybe you find it ugly

it's true that there's nothing but cinders, nothing but rock

still and all I'm left here with my empire of wind and dust that's not for sale

I am a king here and I sleep here, I'm so proud of it

my arse sitting in the cold on my stone throne

just like I'm still walking around here

free and my cock in the air