De la mano de la soledad va caminando aquel hombre, sin que nadie sepa su nombre, van pregonando su vida. Vida llena de rutinas, de cansancios y placeres. Ese que tantas mujeres añoran tener al lado. ¿Por que va siempre solo?- preguntan. ¡Siempre anda apurado!Bien vestido y ADORNADO esconde su mejor sonrisa.Su perfume lo engalana, y va dejando su rastro. La brisa le hace el encargo de regar su paradero. Su habla pocas consiguen porque su voz se le esconde, su timida mirada absorve las miradas de otras gentes. Siempre anda con cuidado como si contara sus pasos, hasta que venga el ocaso y este de vuelta, donde de alguna manera nadie lo espera.
From the hand of loneliness that man walks, without anyone knowing his name, they proclaim his life. Life full of routines, fatigue and pleasure. That which so many women yearn to have next. Why is he always alone? - they ask. He always walks in a hurry! Well dressed and DECORATED he hides his best smile. His perfume adorns him, and leaves his trace. The breeze orders him to water his whereabouts. His speech few get because his voice is hidden, his shy gaze absorbs the eyes of other people. He is always careful as if to count his steps, until sunset comes and this is back, where somehow nobody expects him.
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