Evocaciones bellas se perpetuan en mi alma
y me hallo en un debate interno.
Son recuerdos supuestos.
Quizá yo esté en amor con su versión de sueño,
una versión mía imaginada,
una construida por mi mente,
quizá no sea el hombre adecuado para mí,
pero yo sigo flotando en mi nubecita,
sigo fantaseando su compañia,
sigo ingeniando el roce de su piel contra la mía.
Mis dudas me golpean,
parecen ser de función vital.
No sé cómo haré para arrancarme
su presencia en mi corazón. No sé cómo haré para conformarme con la anchura que nos separa. Yo sé que de nada vale proyectar un futuro unido,
un futuro compartido.
Amarle así es una confusión,
Sweeter could not be his memory.
Beautiful evocations are perpetuated in my soul
and I am in an internal debate.
There are supposed memories.
Perhaps I am in love with his dream version,
my fancied version, one designed by my mind,
perhaps he might not be the suitable man for me,
but I keep on floating in my little cloud,
I keep on daydreaming his company,
I keep on devising the rubbing of his skin against mine.
My doubts strike me all the time,
they seem to be of vital function.
I do not know how I will do to wrench his presence in my heart.
I do not know how I will do to be content
with the width that separates us.
I know that it is senseless to plan a united and shared future.
To love him is a confusion,
that's why I must never create the hope.
by So Sunny
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