You went away and you left me
locked in hell
a divorce, and a thousand papers
and a pile of memories.
Since then, I haven't found
a good explanation.
I still don't know why you left
but it's starting to get better.
But what hurts me the most
is that when you left my side
you have even taken with you the nails
leaving nothing, not even the oil lamp.
And now I want you to bring me back
my saddle and my horse,
my machete, and my rosary,
my coffee mug.
And now I want you to bring me back
the portrait of my grandmother,
my parrot Magdalena,
and my game of chess.
And now I want you to bring me back
my cassettes, my pots,
my dog, the goat and the cat,
and the requinto I found.
And now I want you to bring me back
my Colombian spirit,
my Australian passport,
and my wall clock.
But what hurts me the most
is that when you left my side
you have even taken with you the nails
leaving nothing, not even the oil lamp.