Relojes en la oscuridad [English translation]

It could be all a lie

well decorated,

a lyric for a song

I don't care if it was past or not.

I only find myself in my papers

madmen who think,

they come out of an immortal circus

and teach me what I ignore of you.

I wouldn't ever trade this informal universe

where the seeds of the absurd and the great grow

where the iron twists and becomes the essential.

I have a clock of thirty hours

it starts up when I write

when the notion leaves

and I get close slowly to you.

Like a powerful torrent,

mixing the mud with the crystal,

they emerge to the paper

and madness and peace take form.

I wouldn't ever trade this informal universe

where the seeds of the absurd and the great grow

where the iron twists and becomes the essential.

A world that was, for not stop being it will be,

my hotel room with windows to the sea.

I hear your voice asking what will never exist

by force of remembering what didn't happened.

I've learned to be one more piece

a link in the dark.

There's a way to stop the time

disordering the evolution

and find in the prehistory

those eyes I can't forget.

I'm not scared of what you say,

or those stories of beyond,

I'm only afraid of listening

the clocks in the dark.

I wouldn't ever trade this informal universe

where the seeds of the absurd and the great grow

where the iron twists and becomes the essential.