Hacer el amor con otro [English translation]

Awakening with him

at my side is not the same

as being with you.

It's not bad,

but it goes without saying,

he lacks maturity,

he might as well be a kid,

white as yogurt

without the bull

of your chest,

and the frailty of a flower

has nothing to do with my favorite naughty.

Without your nails clawing into my back,

Without your hands clenching me,

everything changes

Without your tongue poisoning

my throat

Without your teeth which torture and sweeten, I don't feel a thing.

Making love with another is not the same

no, no, no.

There are no pink stars,

no distilling of the body's pores,

no immortal splashes of "I love you."

Making love with another is not the same

no, no, no.

It's like doing nothing,

he lacks fire in his gaze,

doesn't give his soul with each kiss, and I don't get that reaching the sky feeling.

I wanted to forget you

with him,

I wanted to avenge your infidelity,

and it cost me dearly,

so much so,

I struggle to breathe the same air.

The strands of your curly black hair,

your sharp and drained hips,

that beard which scraped like sandpaper

and that crooked smile are the best I had in my life.

Making love with another is not the same

no, no, no.

There are no pink stars,

no distilling of the body's pores,

no immortal splashes of "I love you."

Making love with another is not the same

no, no, no. It's like doing nothing,

he lacks fire in his gaze,

doesn't give his soul with each kiss,

and I don't get that reaching the sky feeling.