ON THE RAZOR'S EDGE

 

My life is made of newspaper clippings

In the big apple I became a man

Of paper

And on the razor's edge I walked

And by fluke I saved

New York, New York

Over the skyscrapers

A room in the UN

A window looking at the East River

The barges passed

The corpses of the suicide bombers floated

dirty water and smoke

brooklyn chimneys

I smoked black tobacco

They stole my black glasses that I bought in London

The first night I arrived

when i went up for a moment

To take a coffe

I could not read

So much paper, mountains of reports

bureaucrats

I made friends with Russian journalists

They were all KGB

Watch out they said

gossip

They looked like handsome colonels of the Preovazhensky Regiment

From tsarist time

My friend Hervy the Jew would pass me the chronicles

And he went to Miami to die in the elephant graveyard

Avuncular fat man did not eat jalufo

I understood then that those of the wandering people

They don't have a tail

maybe i was one of them

But the press conferences bored me

And the insipid committees

Matchbox

The hermetic glass doors did not open the windows

smart architecture stifling environment

Hallways full of bacteria

I was short of breath

They told me that that glazed and blue house

It was the breakwater of all wars

Spain gave birth to me, England made me and undid me

New York transformed me and made me fat

In my chronicles I defended the Spanish interests

With the displeasure of Piniés

Hermida sometimes came elegant and petulant

Carrascal ties and smiles

Cyril in his harem

There I felt the pulse of the world

That was the story of my days

in the UN