Hace 5 años que no veo mi calle, esa que me vio crecer. Tampoco he visto a mi hijo, tendrá la mirada fruncida, tal vez más madura. Cruze el puente sin pensar que me tardaría tanto en volver, tengo una ranchera, una canción en mi alma que me recuerda a ti, cada mes evitó ver las fechas no laborables, en cada una de ellas paseaba, iba a la playa, tenía amigos, dicen que la patria viaja contigo, pero yo me siento con el alma sin patria, los recuerdos me torturan, son como espinas en mi alma. Tengo una maleta llena de recuerdos, de victorias, de fracasos, de luchas. Cada domingo se vacía mi vaso, ese que se llenó de fe en la semana, esa fe que me engaña cada lunes y se va diluyendo el viernes. Te recuerdo con un café y te borro con un cerveza, la mentira te hace feliz mientras te la creas. Foto tomada con celular. Photo taken with cell phone. I haven't seen my street in 5 years, the one that saw me grow up. I haven't seen my son either, he'll have a puckered look, maybe more mature. I crossed the bridge without thinking that it would take me so long to return, I have a ranchera, a song in my soul that reminds me of you, every month I avoided seeing the non-working dates, in each of them I walked, went to the beach, had friends, they say that the homeland travels with you, but I feel with the soul without homeland, the memories torture me, they are like thorns in my soul. I have a suitcase full of memories, victories, failures, struggles. Every Sunday my glass is emptied, the one that was filled with faith in the week, that faith that deceives me every Monday and is diluted on Friday. I remember you with a coffee and I erase you with a beer, the lie makes you happy as long as you believe it.
