Five in the morning in a dime a dozen pub.
The good specimens have left with their hand
on a gym bicep with tits.
The same Martians always remain.
They have lifted the ban
on hunting drunks
who try to exchange a drink
for a quick role in the sack.
We are all beautiful at five
with our mascara running and our lips worn out.
The guardian angel has gone out for tobacco:
no one wants to sleep beside an empty space.
Translated by Curtis Bauer
“Happy Hour” is from Nanas para hombres grises (Lullabies For Grey Men) (Diputación de Huelva, 2006).
You can read and listen to the poem in the original Spanish here.