A continuación un escrito en inglés. Lo hago con tono chicanero de que medio sé escribir en otro idioma. Lo que allí está expresado no tiene nada que ver con la tranquila realidad que ahora me rodea. La vaina es que una amiga me escribió hace poco pidiéndome el favor de que le enviara ese escrito que ustedes tratarán de leer a continuación. No me acordaba. La recomendación para que lean lo siguiente es que ni por el verraco usen Google traductor. Es lo peor que pueden hacer como seres humanos. Más bien reconozca que usted no
sabe ni miércoles de inglés y empiece a estudiarlo. Igual, ese idioma es fácil. Igual el escrito. Ya sin más
chachara, de la época del ahuevado Pablú, llega esto. Disfruten si pueden.
(I had a bad dream... I dreamt you were about to leave me... tell me it
is just a fucking joke... - Don't worry, it was just a fucking joke, now close
your eyes and sleep... You have to get up early -)
Since then, I prefer living in my
dreams... I cannot find someone outside. I just have to close my eyes to live
my reality inside me. Everything is perfect. Everything is just like I dreamt
of... a sort of paradise. You don't have to wear shoes, neither do I. We live
close to the sea. I can listen to the waves, gentle waves. We have to fish and
over there, next to our house, there is a farm, full of veggies, just like you
loved...
When I open my eyes, you are not there.
You left... you flew... Just your shadow still is. So, I have to close my eyes
again and you are there. You are smiling, so happy, so perfect, so beautiful.
Your hair is just like you dreamt of... Your smile, your hands and your voice.
Everything is so perfect that I don't wanna wake up. But I have to. And my
reality is that I'm alone. Nobody is next to me. So, I close my eyes again..
I see some kids peeping out our home.
They are two. One girl, one boy. We loved them. We are so fucking happy.
Paradise is real inside me...
I open my eyes and the sun is on the
sky. All is clear, I'm alone. I close them and you are next to me. You hold my
hand and whisper: I love you sweet one. I open my eyes and cry... I close them
and still I'm crying... I open my eyes I'm alone, I close them and you heart is
beating next to mine...
I don't wanna open my eyes anymore. I'm
happy inside. Living with the eyes closed is so fucking amazing. Don't wake me
up tomorrow. I found my reality when I close my eyes...
Since then, I prefer living in my
dreams... I cannot find someone outside. I just have to close my eyes to live
my reality inside me. Everything is perfect. Everything is just like I dreamt
of... a sort of paradise. You don't have to wear shoes, neither do I. We live
close to the sea. I can listen to the waves, gentle waves. We have to fish and
over there, next to our house, there is a farm, full of veggies, just like you
loved...
When I open my eyes, you are not there.
You left... you flew... Just your shadow still is. So, I have to close my eyes
again and you are there. You are smiling, so happy, so perfect, so beautiful.
Your hair is just like you dreamt of... Your smile, your hands and your voice.
Everything is so perfect that I don't wanna wake up. But I have to. And my
reality is that I'm alone. Nobody is next to me. So, I close my eyes again..
I see some kids peeping out our home.
They are two. One girl, one boy. We loved them. We are so fucking happy.
Paradise is real inside me...
I open my eyes and the sun is on the
sky. All is clear, I'm alone. I close them and you are next to me. You hold my
hand and whisper: I love you sweet one. I open my eyes and cry... I close them
and still I'm crying... I open my eyes I'm alone, I close them and you heart is
beating next to mine...
I don't wanna open my eyes anymore. I'm
happy inside. Living with the eyes closed is so fucking amazing. Don't wake me
up tomorrow. I found my reality when I close my eyes...
¿Lo entendieron? ¡Qué feo ser triste! El final perfecto
para el anterior escrito lo hubiera hecho con que al sueño entra Black Widow
(Scarlett Johansson) y me dice: -¿Llorando por esta tonta?-. Luego me agarra de
la mano y me dice: -No son penas mijo-. Me rumbea. Me seca las lágrimas con su escote y me monta en una nave. Hasta ahí les
cuento.
A eso le llamo, remendar un recuerdo. Así que
no chillen, queridos lectores.
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