Possibly Could Be

Gone with the wind all my hopes went flying, searching for the nevermind reasons to fall apart.. in the dessert of my silence a tree of wisdom was growing while the holy sun was watching keeping it far from die.. there was a way along the river and on its joy was diving mine and on the above blind sky from clearness there was a heart beating, a bird singing, a girly whisper or some intention to cry.. but on its blue courtain, where the blue was still warmer.. all I needed there it was.. my heart was beating, my voice was singing, I was then whispering with my face shaping a smile.

Entre calles de gentes y colores colgados de ventanas, en portales Se inunda un sueño en soledad. Te busco en cada estampa que mi memoria graba En cada huella perdida, Con esmero, te busco en los colores, en las ventanas, en los portales En las miradas pasantes, en las rumorosas fuentes En todo te busco, te busco, te busco. Como el viento que peina mi enredo, Siento un aliento cercano, deseo, Siento el silencio y su tempestad. Siento el silencio, el deseo siento Siento tus manos, y la luz de tus cabellos, Siento el latir que duele, el latir que corre y su tempestad. Oigo más cosas que nunca Cuánto más decido callar. El mismo idioma no, el mismo lenguaje, el silencio. En aquél silencio nuestro mariposas yo puedo gritar. Ellas salen furiosas del vientre y se instalan en la boca Preparadas para escapar al primer suspiro del alma, Ellas se instalan furiosas, mariposas furiosas. Las siento tan furiosas… tempestad, mariposas. Con tus ma...

Among the streets and colors hanging out from windows and doorways, A dream of solitude is flooding. I’m looking for you in every image engraved on my mind, In every lost print let in the city. With care, I look for you in every color, every window, every doorway In every fleeting gaze, in the babbling fountains, In everything, I fail to see you. Like the wind brushing every tangle in my hair, I feel a close breeze, I feel silence and inspirational tempest. I feel silence, and desire, I feel your hands, and the light of two charming streams of honey, I know your language and you know mine. In that silence we both know, butterflies may I shout. The more silent I stay, the more I can hear you, Hear that heart struggle crying to be closer. An essence of mine is dreaming all the time. Dreaming your hands around, in silence, the tempest, Dreaming of you being here, dreaming, You make me forget the innocence, The present, the future, the past....