Assinado em sangue está teu nome;
Rabiscada em minha mente,
Tua face;
Entrelaçado em meus tímpanos,
Tua voz;
Tatuado em minha pele,
Teu toque.
Em meus lábios ainda há marcas recentes de queimaduras
Onde teu sorriso se encaixava com o meu.
Na memória se mantêm guardado um jarro de borboletas,
Que outrora farfalhavam em meu estômago.
Que outrora farfalhavam em meu estômago.
Eis que um dia tu foste embora.
Assim, assim, sem mais nem menos.
Deixando cravado um pedaço teu em cada caco que restou de mim.
Fazendo-me acordar durante a noite com a boca seca, morrendo de sede de ti.
---
My soul has become a scroll,
Signed in blood is your name;
Scrawled in my mind,
Your face;
Wattled in my gable,
Your voice;
Tattooed in my skin,
Your touch.
In my lips there are still fresh bunr marks,
Where your smile fit in mine.
And in my memory there is a kjar of butterflies
That once rustled in my stomach.
One day you just left,
With no explanation once so ever,
Encarving a piece of you in every shard that last of me,
Makeing me wake up during the night, with a dry mouth,
Dying of thirst of you.
---
My soul has become a scroll,
Signed in blood is your name;
Scrawled in my mind,
Your face;
Wattled in my gable,
Your voice;
Tattooed in my skin,
Your touch.
In my lips there are still fresh bunr marks,
Where your smile fit in mine.
And in my memory there is a kjar of butterflies
That once rustled in my stomach.
One day you just left,
With no explanation once so ever,
Encarving a piece of you in every shard that last of me,
Makeing me wake up during the night, with a dry mouth,
Dying of thirst of you.
