The lovers

-Jaime Sabines

The lovers will silent.
the Love is the finest silence,
the more unbearable trembling.
The lovvers seek,
the lovers are those who leave,
They are changing, those who forget.

His heart tells them that they will never find,
They not found, seek.
The lovers walk like crazies
because they are alone, alone, alone,
they surrendering, giving all the time,
crying because they do not save the love.

They worry the love. The lovers
live a day, they can not do more, they do not know.
They're always going,
always somewhere.
they wait,
They expect nothing, but wait.

They know that they will never find.
Love is the perpetual deferment,
always the next step, the other, the other.
The lovers are the insatiable,
How good that always - have to be alone.
Lovers are the hydra of the story.

They have snakes instead of arms.
Neck veins are swollen
also as snakes to suffocate.
The lovers can not sleep
if they fall asleep is because they eat worms.
In the darkness they open their eyes
and falls into them terror.
They find scorpions under the sheet
and their bed floats as though on a lake.

The lovers are crazy, just crazy,
without God and the devil.
The lovers leave their caves
trembling, hungry,
ghost hunting.
They laugh at the people who know everything,
of those who love forever, truly,
of those who believe in love
as an inexhaustible lamp.

The lovers play to catch the water,
tattooing smoke, not to leave.
They play the long sad game of love.
No one has to resign.
They say that no one has to resign.
The lovers are ashamed of all creation.
Empty, but empty from one to another rib,
death ferments them behind the eyes,
and they walk, they cry until dawn
when trains and roosters wake into sorrow.

It comes sometimes a newborn smell of earth,
women who sleep with hand on sex,
you pleased,
tender streams of water and kitchens.
The lovers start singing between their lips
a song that is not learned,
and they go on crying, crying,
the beautiful life.