How difficult life is
When uncertainty exists
And how ugly death tastes
When done by habit.
Into my body there arrived
Unexpected visitors,
One stayed with me,
The others left in passing.
Some faces in astonishment
And others more contorted,
The doctor is on his way,
Surely he won't be late.
Hope was still alive,
But blood abandoned me.
I asked about my condition
But nobody answered.
With eyes toward the ceiling
And movement nonexistent
Anxiety and desperation
Along with fear builds up.
How did the events transpire?
He asked the report,
Sir, now I'll answer you,
Just let the blood coagulate.
And how is one to prepare
To leave this life?
If I didn't buy a ticket
And I was already on my way,
I wish I were Catarino
So I could cure myself with saliva.1
Hope remains,
But time has left me.
With calmness per minute,
And serum per second,
Like a caged beast
About to lose its hide.
The doctor is arriving now,
Prepare the patient,
Patience is what I don't have,
I hope you don't mind.
If I don't make it,
I want to ask you one more thing,
Don't bury me, don't cremate me,
In case I don't want to die anymore.
And it's just that in cases like this
I always tend to regret it.
I'm out of paper
It's time to say goodbye.
1. Refers to the song "Catarino y los rurales" by Pesado, in which can be found the lyrics "Los balazos que me den, me los curo con saliva" ("The bullet wounds they give me, I'll cure them with saliva.")