Hice Mal

It was wrong, it was wrong to see you.
You belonged to God, I knew it,
but it did not matter, I loved you.
I loved to see you, but this…

It was wrong, it was wrong to see you.
Now you are far away, so far from me
here, in this city which comes and goes,
and you, in the Church with your prayers.

It was wrong, it was wrong to see you,
seeking you, going to find you.
But, I knew that what would come
would unravel: my huge desire to love you.

It was wrong, it was wrong to see you.
At that time, you were passion and I, love.
You told me and warned me:
no love between us could exist.

“What can I offer you?’, you muttered,
“I am a poor parish priest, that is all.”
I told you that I understood, but I lied.
I felt something in the back of my heart.

It was wrong, it was wrong to see you.
I left worse than when I had arrived.
A feigned smile and a halo of sadness,
they, part of my self, split my soul.

Whether you wanted to do it or not, I do not  know,
but we enjoyed our passion, there is no doubt.
Afterwards, repentance from the devil brought you back
to the image in your mind:

 “I am a priest!!”

It was wrong, it was wrong to see you.
I knew your situation, I was not an idiot.
I wanted it, I desired it,
but now, I feel myself alone.

You, so far away among your things,
have already forgotten me,
here alone again once more.
You ignore this intimate inferno.

It was wrong, it was wrong to see you.
Afterwards, always just in passing
a greeting, a beer, only a brief caress,
never did I tell you what I felt.

For my own good, I did not say.
Perhaps you suspected, suddenly.
However, for me, I found nothing
but silence in my soul.

It was wrong to see you, it was wrong.
Perhaps never again,
never again
what happened,
any of it,
all of it,
never again
will I return to see you.

Copyright 2004 by Michael Jose Morales Arriola
Translated by Ron Hudson

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Hice Mal

Hice mal, hice mal en verte.
Tú tenías dueño, lo sabía,
pero no importaba, te quería.
Quería verte, solo eso...

Hice mal, hice mal en verte.
Pues tu lejos estas, muy lejos,
y yo aquí en esta cuidad, que va y viene
y tú en la Iglesia y sus rezos.

Hice mal, hice mal en verte,
en ir hasta ti, en ir a buscarte.
Pues, sabía lo que vendría,
se desataría: el gran deseo de amarte

Hice mal, hice mal en verte.
Pues tu eras pasión y yo amor.
Tú me lo dijiste y me advertiste,
nada de amor entre los dos

¿Que puedo ofrecerte? balbuceaste.
Soy un pobre cura, solo eso.
Yo te dije que te entiendo, pero miento.
Siento algo aquí adentro en mi corazón.

Hice mal, hice mal en verte.
Pues me voy peor de cómo llegue
una sonrisa fingida y un halo de tristeza,
Estaban en mi rostro, eme partía el alma.

Quizás no quisiste hacerlo, no lo se.
La pasamos bien, eso quien lo duda.
De repente el diablo te devolvió
esa imagen en tu mente:

 ¡Eres cura!

Hice mal, hice mal en verte.
Pues sabía tu condición, no era tonto,
lo quería desde antes, lo deseaba
pero ahora, yo aquí me siento solo.

Tú muy lejos, entre tus cosas,
pues tu ya me haz olvidado.
Yo aquí solo, otra vez, de nuevo
ignorando tú este infierno

Hice mal, hice mal en verte,
pues antes las cosas iban bien
Un saludo, una cerveza,
tan solo una breve caricia.

Jamás te diré lo que siento,
por mi bien no lo digo,
Quizás lo sospeches, de repente
pero de mi parte un silencio mi alma

Hice mal en verte, hice mal,
Pues, quizás nunca más, nunca más
Por lo que pasó, por todo eso
Nunca más, volveré a verte....

Copyright 2004 by Michael Jose Morales Arriola