Days that arrived without announcing they were coming.
January finishing on my shoes, on sunsets, on wine bottles and motorcycle sounds.
You were part of that, but time doesn’t cares, you were that instant`s everything,
the perfect end of a journey.
But what happens when sunsets finish, and fishermen have ended fishing?
Few things remain.
I was there looking at your eyes.
And those eyes are like emerald reflecting moonlight.
Your eyes have no shadows,
Haven’t you got any secrets?
Always looking and messing with my eyes,
Don’t you like darkness too?
Haven’t you thought heaven has no light, and blind men are kings?
I’ll remember them,
it won’t be easy to forget them,
I’ll remember looks that have no owner,
Looks that were born and stolen in a secret place,
In a blanket that seemed like a river,
A river borned in a mountain,
A river that drove me directly to your emerald eyes.