si el piso gira sobre sí mismo?
¿Para qué te desoigo,
si vives en mi pulso?
¿Para qué te desando,
si mis pupilas no te dejan sola, ni un instante?
¿Para qué aguardo por tí,
si estás en donde menos te espero?
¿Para qué me preguntas,
si ya lo sabes?
Why do I follow you around,
if the floor spins over itself,
whispering,
without hesitation?
Why do I only wish to stop hearing you,
but you live down inside my throat,
and in every contraction around the heart?
Why do I hope to retrace you,
but my eyes don't even leave you for a single moment?
Why do I wait for you,
but you often arrive at the most unexpected places?
Why do you ask,
if you already know the truth?