Sylvie Hernández - Destiempo

Destiempo

Cuánta prisa tiene el mundo afuera
De repente, sin saberlo, primavera
Aquí dentro no hace falta; frena

Ya no saben hacia dónde huir
Es nostalgia de lo que está por venir
Es el vértigo a que enero sea abril

Esta eternidad se convirtió en instante
Ayer ya es demasiado tarde

Detrás del cristal, continua guerra
Quédate, yo te resguardo en mi trinchera
No permitas que lo ajeno no te duela

Del tablero no eres más que alfil
Hazle un pulso al tiempo y trata de vivir
Sé valiente; el juego no era existir

Para qué impaciencia por precipitarse
Correr no es siempre llegar antes

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