The Red Coffee House
In the red coffee house, the one that opens
At five in the afternoon, the white lilies
Grow on top of the pianos.
There hope burns,
Burns through the walls of this great city,
Burning through the rooms,
Throughout all of their corridors and
Penetrates the elevators
Nailing glint in
The walls and the ceilings.
Tears accompany them.
Mornings find me looking for
Pretext to stay, continue anxiously
With despair, to continue the fight.
The cold penetrates so strongly, it
Installs itself in the bones, beats
My face freezes my hope.
Few things were clear.
In some moments nothing is clear,
The fog becomes denser
And there’re no eyes to see.
I am without you in this hotel, that
Is the same as me not being?
I travel through the streets, the red hallways
Have the hotel and I say: God,
Give me reasons to stay,
I need motives to cling to,
My God, my God,
I need to wait for them.
And the streets, the avenues, everything
Comes to meet me and then abandons me;
They do not care and I remain here
With this solitude in my body;
I am still here in the Red Café,
Waiting for it to be five o’clock,
Confident in April.
God, God, give me reasons
I need motives
God, God I need to await them.
Will April come?