Yesterday, I dreamt that while we were kissing
A shooting star exploited
And neither of us gave up hope.
This love of ours
Belongs to no one;
We found it lost,
In the street.
Between us we saved it, sheltered it.
Because of that, when we swallow each other
In the night,
I feel like a frightened mother left alone.
It does not matter,
Kiss me again and over again
To come to me.
Press yourself against my waist,
Come to me again.
[This poem was left on our bed one night at our hotel in Cuba. We went for dinner, then came back to the room after to find this piece of work there. We must have laughed for about twenty minutes straight. I suppose the Spanish-to-English translation doesn't really work here...]