No te odio.

Te odio.
Pero no eres tú.
Es la idea de ti,
es tu imagen,
tu fantasma que aparece cuando menos lo espero.
Tu escencia que invade mis vagos pensamientos,
que no me deja dormir de noche
ni vivir sin sentir la ansiedad de verte.
Creí encontrar una hermosa flor al conocerte,
brillante y única entre la maleza,
pero ahora me doy cuenta de que tu belleza es venenosa
y estoy intoxicado, corrompido con locura.
Intento encadenarme para no destruir la vida
con tal de acercarme y conocerte,
pero se hace más difícil cada día.
Quizás me libere la poesía,
aunque sé que seguirás apareciendo
y te seguiré odiando.
Pero no serás tú.
Será tu imagen, tu fantasma.
No, nunca podría odiarte,
no existe razón alguna.

An old man, older than any other I've ever seen, was just sitting there in the middle of the road.
At first i thought he hadn't noticed the hurricane behind him, but as soon as he called for me I understood. "Closer" he said, but I didn't hear it, I just knew he said it. He took my neck with his old and weak hand and pulled my head next to his. "Listen. That vortex you see in front of you carries all the troubles you can ever have in life. It carries all the questions that for millions of years men have tried to answer. No one will go there with you, no one will be able to help you. But if you reach the eye of the hurricane, if you get there and start moving with it, you'll be as great as God himself. Just be careful, as you get closer it will be more difficult to turn back." I looked at it, with sweat running down my face, my legs trembling, as it came turning enraged towards me. I could feel its wrath, its enormous power. I had no more time, a decision was to be made. A decision I'll never regret.