IF THEY NEVER CAME

It they never came
Why do you despair?
Your house had no doors
On which to knock
Nor halls for afternoon strolls.

Mother, tell me,
What are we doing here, standing
In this dusty night?
Buses, full of death, speed by.

Drunks in sweaty shirts
Belch and ajaculate alone.
Only those who live in  forgotten towns
Know the closeness of  death,
The stench of loneliness,
The mask of boredom.

Traslated from Spanish by Rowena Hill