Coming of Age (translated from spanish)

It happens that I tire of being a man

It happens that I am sick with age

It happens that the immensity of life scares me and I hide like a child beneath covers before a thunder storm

Dear God,

make me something beautiful

because I tire of being a man

Make me an infinite ray of sunlight.

Make me a nocturnal moment lost between the spaces of the universe.

Make me the enternal distance between two pairs of lips that love each other.

Make me warm and indestructible like the embrace of my mother.

Make me fire or shadow, a grieving breath,

make me a love poem or make me a shout!

But I beg you God, make me something new

because I tire of being a man...

I enter my room and Solitude greets me, with it's bloody smile, and its seashell voice...

reminding me that their are still scars that itch the surface of my heart.

The conversations I never shared with my father.

The stories I never read to my brother.

The seconds that never held the kiss.

The fat bitter tears I choked on for those perfumed wounds disguised as flowers.

The atomic words that I dropped over my mother.

Until our eyes flooded with a rainbow of fire, fury, and a red winter.

Yes, I too, am in the tremendous mood to fly a thousand fucks from here, with a green knife, screaming out my sins, until I die of the cold.