Where are the women
on this rainy night?
Where are they
with the tender caresses?
They give them to me when I do not need them,
and now that I am dying
for a caress, a loving kiss,
no one is there to give it to me.
Not even Frida Kahlo’s story,
with all of her life’s pain,
can diminish my misery
and suffering.
There is only rain and pain,
on this night lonely, loveless night.
Where are the women
on this rainy night?
Translation by:
Monique James & Belkis Possamai