In North Korea the year has already ended.
December, and we kissed.
Fireworks
in the first party of their lives.
They discovered, astonished,
how the sky was.
In the last kiss
of the first day together
the lights went out.
The last shell of the celebratory fireworks
has already exploded, They´ll prefer at times
never having experienced a year-end
full of fire.
Now all the nights
appear dark.
In love, gunpowder
is like gestures devoted to
a fear that does not burn,
in case pyrotechnics is only a game.
If in the black
exists no colors
without a lit fire,
return to take my hand,
let the blue turn red,
let the yellow become day,
and let the news bring the news you are awaiting for,
the longsuffering non-truth.


Translated in English by Juan J. Vélez Otero