Malinconoia [English translation]

Life is not here on the stilts of a bar

on this Friday that dirties the city

life is not here, from midnight on wards

in heels and clothes

in sleepy eyes of transvestite heroes

life is not a movie of muscles and robots

and the time spent here, is time I dont have

Life is not the one I lost in this Bronx,

between the songs and the troubles in a hemmorhage

of days of the juke-box

boredom is like blues, it makes you think of God

light as a gas, that penetrates your ego

Boredom is nostalgia for a place that is not there

it is the desire to go away from everyone, even from you

it is the malinconoia (melancholy and boredom together) that kills at this age,

it is the heart that is skinned looking for what it already has

and the sky falls down with its dark curtain

and you no longer exist in the malinconoia

Life is not here, in the anxiety of happiness

that makes dawn wait with this new beard

of time that goes again

malinconoia is the war that is inside of me,

this sad joy of having lost you

and you're no longer mine

and you have no idea how bitter it is

to eat the orchid of malinconoia.

Life is not here between ash and coffee

on this silent Friday that screams inside me

Life is not here,

where a boy cries his tears

and swallows them

on this Friday of malinconoia

Life is not here

where a boy cries his tears

of this executioner world,

on this Friday of malinconoia.