Mujer de Bachín

The night gently fell
upon this passage of stories,
our hosts left for the theatre,
as words were replaced by airs.

My guitar softly held
the tears from those tales,
the burgundy in our glasses
faint in your flaming glares.

Melodic whispers embraced
the journeys of an unfaltering heart;
You talked of Paderewski,
and of our lovely friend.

By that quarter you dwelled,
you said, as our souls tangoed,
in the land to whom I am strange,
though her passions I apprehend.

You dimmed the lights,
as all those years unfold,
your devotion has eclipsed,
your losses and your woes.

Of love and life you spoke,
as the song came to a close;
farewell, for now, my friend,
Clarinette will keep our rose.

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Published in: on 01/06/2018 at 9:41 PM  Leave a Comment  

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