Solo mis visceras memorizan 

la lujosa biografia de mis antepasados,

la extraordinaria longitud de mi apellido,  el pluscuamperfecto de mi ultima llegada.

Afirmo que volvi para salvarme 

de algun destino injusto

o del oprobio.

Sonie que la muerte me arrojaba 

al recuerdo mas cercano.

Mis abuelos tuvieron otra guerra

que se refleja en mi carotida 

o en mi lengua.

cuando levanto un testimonio nefasto 

o cuando mi mano se descuida 

para quebrantar la ternura.

Exactamente esa es la medida 

de nuestra genealogia ,

la que oportunamente heredamos de los griegos.

Un guerrero muerto con el escudo en su pecho

entregado a su madre voluptuosa.

Somos una republica de celulas

atrincheradas en el alma

buscando el beso 

que transforme todo en piel.

En vano buscamos tanto oro.

Only my viscera memorizes 

the luxurious biography of my ancestors.

The extraordinary length of my surname,

the past perfect of my last arrival.

I affirm I came back to save myself

from some kind of unjust destiny

or dishonor.

I dreamed that death drew me 

to the closest memory.

My grandparents went through another war

that is reflected in my carotid 

and my tongue

whenever I bear a false testimony

or when my hand slips and breacks from tenderness.

That's exactly the measure of our genealogy,

what we fortunately inherited from the greeks.

A dead soldier with his shield covering his chest 

and finally given to his voluptuous mother.

We are a republic of cells

entrenched i

We are a republic of cells

entrenched in our soul

waiting for the kiss that would transform everything into skin.

In vain we look for gold

n our soul

waiting for the kiss that would transform everything into skin.

In vain we look for gold

We are a republic of cells

entrenched in our soul 

waiting for the kiss

that would transform everything into skin.

In vain we look for gold.

Esa Muerte de Lunas que Adoramos