Eipar a creature with no land

Torture

2010-06-24T19:11:00.003-04:00

She closed her eyes, tired, withered. Tears were all gone now, all that was left was this strange void of emotion. No pain was conceivable beyond the carcass of her old self that laid there in the floor, naked, motionless, frozen.
Hours before, there was scream, there was pain, there was spirit to fight, to struggle. To pretend she could go on.
No more pretending, she had nothing for them, but nothing for herself either. The truth that was within, was gone.
A fractured self was in place among the moistened rock and the moss that surrounded her.
Only man can destroy a soul beyond repair, only species capable of breaking an opponent, real or imaginary, to the point of begging for death.
And only man can stop the madness of torture. She always thought humans were the best in the creation, now she new they were both the best and the worst.
The only ones that can have a Mother Theresa and a Holocaust, the only species capable of total selflessness and total selfishness...
and there she was no longer afraid, perhaps just amazed at this monumental capacity for destruction that humankind has. Maybe hoping some day someone will say enough and no one else will endure a lonely cell in a place where no one knows, where no one goes out unharmed... innocent or guilty, we're all just one kind, the one made by God, whose life is only for God to take away...

Loss

2009-01-23T18:08:00.002-05:00

Rocks thrown against tanks
David against Goliath
What a loneliness in a world where
he who kills children, goes unharmed.
So much destruction, just for politics
Hatred that is sown little by little
watered with lies and absurdity
Hatred that when is harvested destroys it all:
orange fields, houses, lives…
He who dies and he who kills
two persons that loose it all
He who dies looses his breath,
he who kills, his soul.
First the interminable roar
then the silence of death.
And who looses the most
in this meadows of destroyed olive trees?
Looses the enraged soldier that turns into impure beast
looses the mother that sees her family disappear
looses the old man that finds himself wounded and alone
looses the doctor that can’t see any more pain
looses humanity that sits impassible
to observe the carnage
In silence, in this shame of a coward world
where money matters more than minimum decency
And one wonders:
who are those famous animals with spirit?
Here there is only animals left.

Piedras que se lanzan contra tanques
David contra Goliat.
Que soledad en un mundo en el cual
quien mata niños, queda impune.
Tanta destrucción, sólo por política.
Odio que se siembra poco a poco,
que se riega con mentira y absurdo
Odio que cuando se cultiva lo destruye todo:
campos de naranjos, casas, vidas…
Él que muere y él que mata:
dos personas que lo pierden todo.
Él que muere pierde el aliento,
él que mata, el alma.
Primero el estruendo interminable
después el silencio de la muerte
¿Y quién pierde más
en estos prados de olivos destruídos?
pierde el soldado enfurecido que se vuelve bestia inmunda
pierde la madre que ve desaparecer a su familia,
pierde el viejo que se encuentra sólo y herido
pierde el médico que no puede ver más dolor
pierde la humanidad que se sienta impasible
a ver la carnicería.
En silencio, en esta vergüenza de mundo cobarde
puede más el dinero que la mínima decencia
Y se pregunta uno
¿quienes son los famosos animales con espíritu?
Aquí sólo quedan animales.

The refugee

2008-11-10T22:44:00.002-05:00

Road that is walked under the sun that burns
The enemy follows his steps
In the hunt for that victim
That for the world is just one more
A number on ever ending statistics
Of absurd wars
Conflicts where the children loose the parents
And the mothers observe with impotence
Their children being ripped from their hands
And thus goes with head down
dragging the feet
with that little left on the shoulders
How much has been lost:
The peace, the history, the ancestry,
the roots that are torn
to survive
And hopes for the world’s charity
which arrives by drops
Life that lives suspended
in a tent far away from home
time that stops
waiting to find the other,
that whom has been lost
and whom he never gets tired of waiting
and among all the sweat, the tears
death, the blood that is wasted
in fields that no one sows anymore
between all, he dreams with the eternal smile
the divine voice that brings back in the wind
the sweet smell of the familiar

Camino que se anda bajo el sol que abrasa
El enemigo sigue sus pasos
a la caza de esa víctima
que para el mundo sólo una más
Un número en estadísticas interminables
de guerras absurdas
Conflictos en los que niños pierden a los padres
y madres miran con impotencia
como les arrancan los pequeños de las manos
Asi va con la cabeza baja
arrastrando los pies
con lo poco que le queda a cuestas.
Cuanto se ha perdido:
La paz, la historia, los ancestros,
las raices que se arrancan
para sobrevivir
Y espera la caridad del mundo
que llega a cuenta gotas
Vida que se vive suspendida
en una tienda de campaña lejos del hogar
tiempo que se detiene
esperando encontrar al otro,
a ese que se ha perdido
y al que nunca se cansa de esperar
Y entre todo el sudor, las lágrimas,
La muerte, la sangre que se pierde
en campos que ya nadie cultiva
entre todo sueña con la sonrisa eterna
la voz divina que le traiga de regreso en el viento
el olor dulce de lo familiar.

There are millions of refugees around the world, the suffering on the refugee camps is truly beyond our understanding.
There is never enough funds or hands. For more information on the gravity of the refugee situation, and how to help check out the following links.

Red Cross/Red Crescent
http://www.icrc.org/

Doctors without Borders
http://www.doctorswithoutborders.org/

United Nations High Comissioner for Refugees
http://www.unhcr.org/cgi-bin/texis/vtx/home

Human Rights Watch
http://hrw.org/doc/?t=refugees&document_limit=0,2

Refugees international
http://www.refugeesinternational.org/

something over the crisis

2008-10-15T18:01:00.001-04:00

Cheap is despair
a couple of tears,
a couple of dead whispers
and then nothing, the silence
Expensive dreams
hours of flight between inexistent clouds
minutes in which hope palpitates
Efforts that don’t stop facing iron walls
The permanent noise from the brain
that works and works
creating images of ideal futures,
sceneries in which happiness is queen
and anguish disappears
Lovely panegyric of a reality
That persists in spite of any desire
But how much more pleasant than the inexpensive desolation,
It’s the utopia of a truth with no fate:
a world where between war and hunger
there is always someone who falls in love

Barata es la desesperanza
un par de lágrimas
un par de suspiros muertos
y luego nada, el silencio
Caros los sueños
Horas de vuelo entre nubes inexistentes
Minutos en que la esperanza palpita
Esfuerzos que no se detienen ante murallas de acero
El ruido permanente del cerebro
que trabaja y trabaja
creando imagenes de futuros ideales,
escenarios en los que la felicidad es reina
y la angustia desaparece
Bonito panegírico de una realidad
que persiste a pesar de cualquier deseo
Pero cuanto más agradable que la módica desolación
es la utopía de una verdad sin destino:
un mundo en el que entre la guerra y el hambre
siempre hay quien se enamora.

The soldier

2008-09-23T09:37:00.002-04:00

Obey, they said
The enemy awaits
another adversary
who will give away fortune with death
between mined fields and olive orchards
Obey, they said
and he followed his path without questioning
The difuse happiness of cold ignorance
blank check to fate
Why the blood?
Why the crying and the tears?
Why the sound of the machine gun
can’t quiet his fears?
Why the pain in his soul
if it was only an enemy?
Red escapes, between stained hands
And eyes that look no more.
as he sees this empty look
and can’t help but to think
"This is just a man", like him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Obedece, le dijeron
El enemigo acecha
otro adversaio
que reparte con la muerte suertes
entre campos minados y huertos de olivo
Obedece le dijeron
Yysiguio su camino, sin cuestionar
La felicidad difusa de la fría ignorancia
Cheque en blanco al destino
Por qué la sangre
Por qué los lloros y los gemidos
Por qué el sonido de metralla
no le acalla los miedos
por que el dolor de espiritu
Si tan solo era un enemigo
rojo escapa, entre manos manchadas
y ojos que ya no miran.
y al ver la mirada vacía
no puede evitar pensar
"Este es sólo un hombre", como él.

what I can't find

2008-07-31T20:47:00.002-04:00

I know not what I seek
In the echoes of lost looks:
A smile or an abyss
An inexpressible paradise where to waver
To loose sanity, that bit left
leave the soul
search passion
and go insane for love or oblivion
I look at the sky with it’s stars and it’s moon
and there is nothing beyond
than the void of death
Minutes that go down a cliff
of confusions and lies
Loneliness that don’t comform
sadness that is not channeled
Insaciable thirst of that
which I know not
And which with dispair I chase
between everyday laments
between shadows and stars
between the shit and the heavens
The irony of being and to dream what to be
That wind that takes away the wounds
the light that iluminates the fragile tenderness
Those small moments of glory
and those others,
so many and so long
of deception and doubt
But what to be but what I am
what to dream but what I can’t have:
Two souls that meet
beyond the silence
beyond the voice
Unexpected whisper
that embraces the fire
of defenselessness
of hopelessness
Dream of what doesn’t exist
Dream of a love
that burns and at the time quiets
the intolerable tide
of my unsustainable restlessness

******************************************************************

No sé que es lo que busco
en los ecos de miradas perdidas:
Una sonrisa o un abismo
Un paraiso inenarrable en el que claudicar
Perder la sensatez, esa poca que queda
dejar el alma
buscar la pasión
y enloquecer por amor o por olvido
Miro el cielo con sus estrellas y su luna
no hay nada más alla
que el vacío de la muerte
Minutos que se van por un precipicio
de confusiones y mentiras
Soledades que no se conforman
tristeza que no se encauza
Insaciable sed de eso
que no sé que es
Y que con desesperación persigo
entre lamentos cotidianos,
entre sombras y luceros
entre la mierda y el cielo
La ironía de ser y soñar lo que ser
Ese viento que se lleva las heridas
esa luz que ilumina las ternuras frágiles
Esos momentos pequeños de gloria
y esos otros,
tantos y tan largos,
de decepción y duda
Pero que ser sino lo que soy
que soñar sino lo que no puedo tener
Dos almas que se encuentran
mas allá del silencio
mas allá de la voz
Susurro inesperado
que abraza el fuego
de la indefensión
de la desesperanza
Soñar con lo que no existe
Soñar con el amor
Que abrasa y a la vez apaga
La marea intolerable
de mi insostenible agitación

I can only find rain...

2008-07-10T23:10:00.000-04:00

I can only find rain
In the dreams, and the late nights
Only cold and only rain
In your empty eyes
In my dry lips
Only rain and sound of wind
But without thunder and lightning
A small rain
Sad and at the time sweet
Pathetic symphony for drops of water
Bodies nearly dead
That don’t even feel despise

• * * * *

Sólo encuentro lluvia
En los Sueños, en las noches tardías
En la luna y las estrellas
Sólo frío y sólo lluvia
en tus ojos vacíos
en mis labios secos
Sólo lluvia y ruido de Viento
pero sin truenos y centellas
una 1luvia pequeña
Triste y la vez dulce
Patetica sinfonía para gotas de agua
Cuerpos casi muertos
que no sienten ni desprecio

Shadow-Jung's Archetypes

2008-07-01T22:31:00.002-04:00

Desire that crawls damned
among memory
Sea of enchanted waves
Anticipated desolation
Unfinished freedom
Prison of the senses
Afternoon of loneliness and monotony
Memories that float,
without drowning
without repeating what dominates
the conscience
Just a dream
Just decadent and absurd wait
Completed wave
After the wave that goes
unnoticed
Wasted water
in useless passion
Dream no longer dreamt
Oblivion that can’t be forgotten
Afternoon that never returns
Broken fate
Mermaids chant
that precedes the ambush
I want no dream
I want no tears
I prefer the peace
of my frozen loneliness
to the dangerous beat
of my damned heart.

Deseo que te arrastras maldito
entre el recuerdo
Mar de olas encantadas
Desolación anticipada
Libertad inconclusa
Prisión de los sentidos
Tarde de soledad y monotonía
Recuerdos que flotan ,
sin ahogarse
sin repetir lo que domina
la conciencia
Sólo sueño
Sólo espera decadente y absurda
Ola consumada
tras la magia que se va
sin avisar
Agua malgastada
en futíl pasión
Sueño que ya no se sueña
Olvido que no puede olvidarse
Tarde que nunca vuelve
Destino roto
Canto de sirena
que precede la emboscada
No quiero sueño
No quiero lágrimas
Prefiero la paz
de mis soledades heladas
al peligroso latir
de mi corazón maldito.

The chat

2008-06-17T19:26:00.004-04:00

In the darkest night, in the purest silence, our tragic scene develops. Your lips adhered to mine by magnetic attraction, my eyes united to your fate. And in the profound hollow that my absence leaves: your little lament, that won’t be heard. Through your arms full of wind a few tears roll down for the shipwrecked love. My stone cover dissolves at the time as my spirit is given off this useless, sterile time.
The furies keep watch longing to dominate you, but you silent as ever, battle them with cold looks, with no fear as someone who has lost it all and hasn’t much to win. In your arms I leave my last breath…
“What are you thinking?”, you ask with absurd naiveté. That’s all you had to spoil me the fantastic scene of pathetic misfortune I had designed for myself. It was wonderful, to think in your little world corroding by guilt. Why the hell do you ask me what I think.
“In you”, I say with fake and cynical smile. What a way out! Only I can think of such a nonsense, surely you will ask what I think, that’s it! Your lips start to move. Horror! The question… I knew it! You are so disgustingly predictable. And I ask you “would you cry?, I ask without words, to avoid explanations, with a look of secret scrutiny.
You don’t understand, of course. You have never been able to know what I’m thinking. And now, what do I reply? No, better quiet, and with a kiss I kill finally the conversation.
Why didn’t I stay home?
And back to the speeches, I see you monologue like a kid enthusiastic and fresh, while you spell a whole pale and innocent epistle of the kindness of our expired life together, while I struggle alone with my dark thoughts.
“Hey, are you listening?”
the automatic response: “of course I am, darling”
Lie. I could have been observing that miserable piece of parsley stuck in your teeth, but I wasn’t I had my own encounter with the interminable issue: the nothingness, the impertinent self that persists to me: “you are free!” I don’t need you, I don’t love you, I’m fed up.
And the plot thickens on you sad discurse of the aesthetic values of human relations, ours of course. Why can’t you understand out verbs haven’t conjugated in first person of the plural since a long time ago? It’s been months since we are just you and I separately, not “us”. The rest was just part of the acnecdotic book of lies and hypocrisy., just like being here, listening to you blasphemy against love.
How dare you invoke it’s name in my presence? You who are not capable of surrender. I seek, throughout your face, perhaps a little gesture that could convince me to stay here in the midst of this farce. And you talk about the future when I’m not even sure about the present, when the road to my fears is ever more narrow and the loneliness together is even more solid.
The falsehood pulsating over me fills me with rancor. I dream of revenge and I see you there, sitting waiting for a response to a question to which it is no time to answer.
You pick up my tense hands from the table, you trap it in yours. Your eyes are full of tears and you ask me if I know. How can I not know, I know you more than myself. Enough to know when you’re lying. I could say no and let you dream nothing happened, but I don’t. Facing your troubled gesture I stand up finally, I don’t love you enough to forgive you the lack of loyalty. Without looking back I leave for oblivion.

Animus

2008-06-06T14:42:00.002-04:00

Animus missing
In the darkness of this starry night
Voice that escapes between bothering whispers
Tiresome agony of opposites that attract
Not to be without the complement of the contrary
The courage, the valor, the selfishness
To keep the fundamental of one self for one
Glory of being for one self
To cease to exist for others
Oblivion of other’s insomnia
Enjoy the closed eyes
And the lullaby the universe provides
Find courage and rage
To throw oneself to fly
Wounded or not,
Just to fly.

Animus que me faltas
en la oscuridad de la noche estrellada
Voz que se escapa entre susurros molestos
Cansada agonía de opuestos que se atraen
No ser nada sin el complemento del contrario
El valor, el arrojo, el egoismo
Guardarse para si, lo fundamental de uno mismo
Gloria de ser uno por su propio ser
Dejar de existir en función de otros
Olvido de insomnios ajenos
Disfrutar los ojos cerrados
Y el arrullo que me brinda el universo
Encontrar el coraje y la rabia
De echarse al vuelo
Herido o no,
Sólo echarse al vuelo

Little soldier

2008-05-15T01:00:00.001-04:00

He knows nothing but pain and blood
Black eyes lost
in an empty look
Fatigue that precedes mornings and awakenings
without hope
Death that impregnates his young hands
who can judge his actions
with the simplicity of the times of peace
he has never known
Motherless child, without caresses
who shall teach you to love?
whilst so many instruct you to kill
Freedom prescribed between hatred bars
Flight awaiting a miracle,
Love to touch his door,
compassion to come before the end.
My boy, how quiet we all are
while your childhood is stolen
between machine guns and bullets
destruction, bonfires
screaming, enemies, old and young sorrows.
Silence that dominates a planet that lives
and leaves you alone at night to sob.

Pequeño soldado.

No conoce más que el dolor y la sangre
Ojos negros que se pierden
en una mirada vacía
Cansancio que precede a mañanas y despertares
sin esperanza
Muerte que impregna sus jóvenes manos
Quién puede juzgar sus actos
con la simplicidad de los tiempos de paz
que nunca ha conocido
Niño sin madre, sin caricias
¿quién te enseñará a amar?
cuando tantos te instruyen a matar
Libertad prescrita entre barrotes de odio
Vuelo que espera un milagro,
el amor que toque a su puerta,
la compasión que llegue antes que el fin.
Mi niño, que callados estamos todos
mientras te roban la infancia
entre metrallas y balas
destrucción, hogueras,
gritos, enemigos, dolores viejos y jóvenes.
Silencio que domina un planeta que vive
y te deja en la noche a sollozar solo.

To learn more about the rights of children and the situation of children in war zones or children soldiers visit:
Para conocer más sobre los derechos de los niños y la situación de los niños en zonas de guerra o los niños soldados visite:
Pour apprendre plus au sujet des droites des enfants et de la situation des enfants dans les zones de guerre ou de soldats enfants visiter:
Om meer over de weten van kinderen en de situatie van kinderen in oorlogsstreken of kinderen militarien bezoek:

http://www.unicef.org/media/media_43770.html

The Drifter

2008-05-02T13:47:00.003-04:00

For my friend Vicente, a true drifter

Hand that extends sad
Asking for charities
Eyes that claim justice
A life full of tragedy,
Of maybes, whys and broken dreams
Years lost between ethylic vapors
Cold nights over the asphalt,
afternoons of heat and dawns with
the terror on the skin
between cardboard and dog feces
left by owners
who know not famine,
the intoxicating smell of bakeries
where he never goes
empty bottles
a backpack on the shoulder
with a pair of old shirts
the picture of a woman and a son
that he shall never see again
Days that pass with no sorrow or glory
At the wait of death
under the sun of a city that never stops
pedestrians that pass without looking
others look with contempt
almost none smile
almost none understands
The loneliness of he who is alive
but dead inside

*********************************

Mano que se extiende triste
Pidiendo caridades
Ojos que claman por justicia
Una vida llena de tragedias,
de quizás, porqués y sueños rotos
Años perdidos entre vapores etílicos
Noches frías sobre el asfalto
Tardes de calor y madrugadas con el terror
a flor de piel
Entre cartones y heces de perros
dejadas por dueños
que no conocen el hambre,
el olor embriagante de panaderías
a las que nunca se entra
botellas vacías
una mochila al hombro
con un par de camisas viejas
y la foto de una mujer y un hijo
que nunca más verá
Los días pasan sin pena ni gloria
A la espera de la muerte
bajo el sol de una ciudad que no para
transeuntes que pasan sin mirar,
otros que miran con desprecio
pero pocos son los que se detienen
casi ninguno sonríe
casi ninguno entiende
la soledad del que está vivo
y que por dentro está muerto.

2008-04-21T12:36:00.004-04:00

I don’t believe in the peace of your lies,
the control that you silently impose
in the nauseating tokens of affection.
Well documented hypocrisy
Escape out of a window I’d like
and transform into air,
to sea breeze that refreshes,
get lost in the universe
from continent to continent
without ever listening your name again
without ever hearing your voice
or your pathethic reproaches
Shipwreck that is guessed
between four walls of resentment.
Virgin hatred, unknown before
that cradles in the hopelessness
of the wounded sparrow.
Exasperating wait of fragile fluttering
of dreams of freedom with no sense.

***************************************

No creo en la paz de tus mentiras
el control que callado impones
en las muestras de cariño nauseabundas
Hipocresía bien documentada
Escaparme por una ventana quisiera
y convertirme en aire,
en brisa de mar que refresca,
perderme en el universo
de continente en continente
sin volver a escuchar tu nombre,
sin oír jamas tu voz
ni tus patéticos reproches.
Naufragio que se adivina
entre cuatro paredes de resentimiento
Odio vírgen, antes desconocido
que se acuna en la desesperanza
del gorrión herido.
Espera exasperante de aleteos frágiles,
de sueños de libertad sin sentido.

Just another night

2008-04-14T14:48:00.001-04:00

Waits
The night is felt
Darkness surrounds all
He listens in the silence
The engine of a car that arrives
Uneasy steps
A key that can’t find the keyhole
A voice that chews incomprehensible words
Violence is heard even in the whispers
He hides under the blankets and prays in silence
“May this night be over”, he asks
but night has begun
when the steps get closer
the breath arrives potent
the voice becomes stronger, more brutal
he cries trembling, fear fills all
the breathing stops
when a hand moves away the blankets
the night is just beginning

Noche cualquiera

Espera
La noche se siente
La oscuridad lo rodea todo
Escucha en el silencio
El motor de un auto que llega
Pasos trastabilleantes
Una llave que no encuentra el ojo de la cerradura
Una voz que rumia palabras incomprensibles
La violencia se oye hasta en los susurros
Se esconde entre cobijas y reza en silencio
Un corazón infantil acelerado que late enloquecido
“Que se acabe está noche” pide
pero la noche empieza
cuando los pasos se acercan,
el aliento llega potente
la voz se vuelve más fuerte, más brutal
llora temblando, el miedo lo llena todo
la respiración se le corta
cuando una mano hace a un lado las cobijas
la noche apenas comienza…

We are lucky

2008-04-02T18:24:00.003-04:00

We are lucky
for never have lived a war
for not knowing the smell of blood
the colour of the soil full of dead
We are lucky to live in oblivion
worried by nonsense
by undramatic day by days
We are lucky to breathe
to live
to have a roof over our heads
and something to bring to our mouth
to not live in the anguish of a lost bullet
or a directed bomb
But how many don’t have it?
How many mothers awaken
with a dead child in their arms?
How many fields with lost crops
seeded with hatred, bullets and mines?
How many rivers dyed of red?
How many seas of lost times?
And here we go on
with the complaint on the tip of our tongues
but how lucky we are…

Tenemos suerte
de no haber vivido la guerra
de no conocer el olor de la sangre
el color de la tierra llena de muertos
Tenemos suerte de vivir en la inopia
preocupados por tonterías
por día a días poco dramáticos
Tenemos suerte de respirar
de vivir
de tener un techo
y que llevarnos a la boca
de no vivir con la zozobra de una bala perdida
de un bombazo dirigido
¿Pero cuantos no la tienen?
¿Cuántas madres se despiertan
con un niño muerto en brazos?
¿Cuántos campos con cosechas perdidas
sembrados de odio, de balas y minas?
¿Cuántos ríos teñidos de rojo?
¿Cuántos mares de tiempos perdidos?
Y aquí seguimos con la queja a flor de labio
pero cuanta suerte tenemos…

I lost you

2008-04-01T14:23:00.006-04:00

para Abi por que nunca un ser más maravilloso pisó la tierra.

I lost you
You closed your eyes
The world stopped
April stole me
Your smile
No more mornings
of café au lait and toasted bread
rather burned
or the smell of eggs overeasy in a cup,
no more long chats
no more soap opera afternoons,
or Saturday lunch
and Sunday mass,
no more arms lent to walk.
Nothing left
but hopelessness
I ceased to be who I was
And my soul filled with rain
Just loneliness was left
A sea of memories
Joy mixed
with the painful afternoons
with the breath cut
The anger, the tears
to see you fading away
That one who wasn’t you anymore
was branded in me, between stories
I filled with hatred, and resentment
Why can’t you be eternal?
Like justice, like truth
Why can’t you stay here?
Like love, like freedom
Damned April that took you between its hours
And I lost you
and without you, silence came
Your laughter was lost
Your affection
Your caresses
Your sweet voice
Your generosity
My want to live was lost
My sense of being was lost
I always was your right hand
Now I just am…
but never what I was
April has come again
and as always it reminds me
I lost you

Te perdí
cerraste los ojos
el mundo se detuvo
Abril maldito
me robó tu sonrisa
No hubieron más mañanas
de café con leche y pan tostado
más bien calcinado,
ni olor de huevos tibios en tacita,
no hubieron charlas largas,
no hubieron tardes de telenovelas,
ni comidas de sábados,
ni misa de domingos,
no más brazos que se prestan para caminar.
No quedó nada,
sólo desesperanza
Dejé de ser quien era
Y el alma se me llenó de lluvia
Quedó sólo soledad
sólo un mar de recuerdos
Alegrías entre mezcladas
con las tardes de dolor
con la respiración entre cortada
y la rabia, las lágrimas
de verte desvanecer.
Esa que no eras ya tú
se me quedaba marcada entre las historias
Me llené de odio, de resentimiento
¿por qué no puedes ser eterna?
Como la justicia, como la verdad
¿por qué no permances aqui?
Como el amor, como la libertad
Maldito abril que te llevó entre sus horas
Y te perdí
Y sin tí llegó el silencio
Se me perdieron tus risas,
Tus afectos
Tus cariños
Tu dulce voz
Tu generosidad
Se me perdieron las ganas de vivir
Se me perdió el sentido de ser
Siempre fui tu mano derecha
ahora sólo soy…
pero nunca lo que fui
Llegó abril de nuevo
y como siempre me recuerda
que te perdí.

Antecedents

2008-03-28T20:48:00.003-04:00

They were nothing but geographic accidents
of sporadic nature
with ephemereal permanence:
Useless chimeras
that didn’t mark the scars of the soul,
as they didn’t bless either
the virgin route of my being in essence.
They didn’t perfume with their scent the accent of my name,
or freed from my entrails the sadness and joys
Never did I love
until I saw the reflexion of my lips in your eyes
The dark night of the past
fused by the light of the present
Before you emptyness, death
After you, you alone

Antecedentes

No fueron sino accidentes geográficos
de naturaleza esporádica,
con permanencia efímera:
Quimeras inútiles
que no marcaron las cicatrices del alma,
cuando tampoco bendijeron
la ruta vírgen de mi ser, en esencia.
No perfumaron con su olor el acento de mi nombre,
Ni liberaron de mis entrañas las tristezas y alegrías
Nunca antes amé
hasta ver el reflejo de mis labios en tus ojos
La noche oscura del pasado
fundida por la luz del presente
Antes de ti el vacío, la muerte
Después de ti, solo tú

Prayer

2008-03-22T10:20:00.004-04:00

Lord I see you in the shadows
of this sad night
Amazement is lost
between shadows
and moons of disenchantment
In the midst of emptyness,
fill all the empty space
that Your prolongued silences
leave me
Where are you Lord?
I ask for an answer
in this failed hopelessness
in this waiting room to precipice
between bitterness and pathetism
Where are you my Jesus?
Good Brother,
Holy Friend
My Lord and my God
take my tired hand
and You be my path
Let me see you Lord
with the eyes of the soul
Find me again
for I am lost
between chimeras and longings,
lost years
Give me back Lord
the sense
Let me not see through my eyes
but through Yours
Let me not offend You, my Jesus,
with my distrust
Let me put in Your love
all I am
and all I have
Let me not see only my failures
but Your Precious Blood
Not in my loneliness
but in Your eternal company
You know it all Lord
You know my hands have not what You ask of me
but what hurts You
Let me not be a nail, Lord
Let me not be flagellum
Let my life be
As the hands of Veronica
a small comfort
Let me not see you at the foot of the Cross
to offend you
but to acompany You with mine
Let my life talk more than my lips
Let it tell you Lord what You already know
that I love You Lord
even though from time to time
I let go of Your hand
and think I can do it alone
Without you, Lord, I can’t anything
But that, my dear Jesus
You already know.

Señor te busco en las sombras
De esta triste noche
El asombro se pierde
entre tinieblas
y lunas de desencanto
En medio del vacío,
llena todo el espacio
que me dejan
Tus silencios prolongados
¿Dónde estás Señor?
Te pido respuesta
en esta desesperanza fracasada
en esta antesala al precipicio
entre amargura y patetismo
¿Dónde estás mi Jesús?
Hermano bueno,
Amigo Santo
Señor mío y Dios mío
toma mi mano cansada
y sé Tú mi camino
Déjame verte Señor
con los ojos del alma
Encuéntrame de nuevo
que estoy perdida
entre quimeras y añoranzas,
años perdidos
Devuélveme Señor
el sentido
Que no vea por mis ojos
sino por los tuyos
Que no te ofenda mi querido Jesus
con mi desconfianza
Que ponga en tu amor
todo lo que soy
y todo lo que tengo
Que no me fije sólo en mis fallos
sino en Tu Preciosa Sangre
No en mis soledades
sino en Tu eterna compañía
Tú lo sabes todo Señor
sabes que mis manos
No están llenas de lo que me pides
sino de lo que te duele
Que no sea clavo Señor
Que no sea flagelo
Que mi vida sea como
las manos de Verónica
un pequeño consuelo
Que no te vea al pie de la Cruz
para ofenderte
sino para acompañarte con la mía
Que hable mi vida más que mis labios
Que te diga Señor lo que ya sabes
que te quiero Señor
aunque de cuando en cuando
me suelte de tu mano
y crea que puedo sola
Sin Ti, Señor, no puedo nada
Pero eso, querido Jesús
Tú ya lo sabes

Lullaby

2008-03-19T23:15:00.003-04:00

The child cries
She sits, tired
whispers again,
Sleep my child, sleep
that there is no milk
Sleep my child
that earth spins
and here the clock doesn’t work.
She caresses his cheek,
with her hands of death
Sleep my child, sleep
that there is no flour
Sleep my child
that here are no waves
nor rain
She looks at his swollen belly,
the misery of his crib,
his black eyes closed
Sleep my child, sleep
That there is no more peace than that of the grave
Sleep my child
and she sings with tenderness
she rocks him in her arms
though already he doesn’t cry
even when he doesn’t move anymore
She kisses him sweetly
Sleep my child, sleep
Momma guards your dreams
and steals the moon
just to lighten for you
the night left
the time that awaits you
between poverty and hunger

El niño llora de nuevo
Se sienta, cansada
suspira de nuevo,
Duerme mi niño, duerme
que no hay leche
Duerme mi niño,
que la tierra gira
y aqui el reloj no camina.
Acaricia su mejilla,
con manos de muerte
Duerme mi niño, duerme
que no hay harina
Duerme mi niño
que aqui no hay olas
ni lluvia
Mira su vientre hinchado,
la miseria de su cuna,
los ojos negros cerrados
Duerme mi niño, duerme
que no hay mas paz que la tumba
Duerme mi nino
y le canta, con ternura,
lo arrulla en sus brazos
aunque ya no llore
aunque no se mueva mas
Lo besa con dulzura
Duerme mi nino duerme
Mamá vela tus sueños
y se roba la luna
sólo para que te ilumine
la noche que queda
El tiempo que te espera
entre pobreza y hambre

Another night with no sleep

2008-03-10T09:42:00.003-04:00

Another night with no sleep
Dawn that comes too soon
Mind that clings hardened
to all it shouldn’t
Finish once and for all with the farce,
my brain asks,
but the heart always has hope
Comfort of the closeby dawn,
for another day of monotony and loneliness
More useless searches
of lost unicorns
forgotten pegasus
and intruding fairies
that seed destiny
between the years that don’t return
and those to come
In waiting of the smile
in a sunny afternoon
with childish laughter
and peace in the soul

Otra noche sin dormir
Crepúsculo que llega demasiado pronto
Mente que se aferra empedernida
a todo lo que no debe
Terminar de una vez con la farsa,
me pide el cerebro,
pero el corazón tiene siempre esperanza
Consuelo del amanecer cercano
para otro día de monotonía y soledad
Más búsquedas futíles
de unicornios perdidos
pegasos olvidados y
hadas intrusas
que siembren destino
entre los años que no vuelven
y los que vendrán
a la espera de la sonrisa
en una tarde soleada
con carcajadas infantiles
y paz en el alma

Little Princess

2008-03-05T17:42:00.000-05:00

Your little blue eyes
Beginning and end of noon
Of mornings and nights
Ultimate joy
My little cherry blossom
Little olive branch
Tenderness wrapped in less than a meter high
Of caresses and loves
Such a little person
And such a big reason
To follow the wind
To smile on the rainy day
Or the uneasyness of sunshine
Little princess of the sweet heaven
With your chocolate butterflies
And your Peter Pan dreams
My favorite Tinkerbell
Who with a smile
Puts the sea to laugh
My little one
Don’t be sad
The battle is never won by Hook
But by the little girls
Who read fairytales
With mommy
And give her everyday
A thousand reasons to dream.

Tus ojitos azules
Principio y fin del medio día
De las mañanas y las noches
Última alegría
Mi cerecito en flor
Ramita de olivo
Ternura envuelta en menos de un metor
De caricias y apapachos
Tan pequeña personita
Y tan grande razón
Para seguir el viento
Para sonreír en día de lluvia
O en desasosiego de sol
Princesita del dulce cielo
Con tus mariposas de chocolate
Y tus sueños de Peter Pan
Mi campanita preferida
Que con una sonrisa
Pones a reír al mar
Mi chiquita
No te me pongas triste
Que la batalla no la gana nunca garfio
Sino las niñas buenas
Que leen los cuentos de hadas
con mamá
y le regalan todos los días
mil razones para soñar.

A child's dream

2008-03-03T16:06:00.000-05:00

A child dreamt war
With paper airplanes and boats
Bombs that fell in little ponds
Making ripples with the little rocks of the road
A child dreamt death
Lying on asphalt
On a spring morning
Laughing in loud laughter
After falling with the preceding “bang bang”
A child dreamt the world finished
But an adult dreamt too of war
With airplanes and bombs
He destroyed the ponds and roads
An adult dreamt of death
And over the pavement a child fell
With a lost bullet
And there were no more dreams
Or more paper boats sailing
Over little ponds in the asphalt
And the world ended
When the child couldn’t dream anymore.

Un niño soñó la guerra
Con aviones y barquitos de papel,
Bombas que caían en pequeños charcos
Haciendo círculos con guijarros del camino
Un niño soñó la muerte
Tendido sobre el asfalto,
En las mañanas de privamera
Ríendo a carcajadas
Tras desplomarse con el antepuesto bang bang
Un niñó soñó que el mundo se acababa
Pero un adulto soñó también la guerra
Y con aviones y bombas
Destruyó los estaques y los caminos
Un adulto soñó la muerte
Y sobre el pavimento un niñó cayó
Con una bala perdida
Y no quedaron más sueños
Ni más barcos de papel navegando
Sobre charcos en el asfalto
Y el mundo se acabó
cuando el niño ya no pudo soñar

The goodbye

2008-02-26T12:08:00.001-05:00

All silence escapes
between yelling and arguments
Let’s not talk about peace or love,
lets say goodbye
with dignity and decorum
In the name of the love that was
Let’s pack our bags
with merry memories
Let’s throw the bad times
to the trash
And in a sweet moment
wish me luck
Let’s hug each other
and let’s be friends forever
No possession left
No war flags between us
Let not quarters be needed,
but two hands that shake each other
with tenderness, with no resentment
Perhaps some hug
A kiss on the cheek
that mark
The change of season:
End of the harsh winter,
beginning of a
permanent spring
in which the north and south
of our new lives
shall be the visible fruit of our love.
The only thing we shall never loose:
that look blue as the new time
like hope, like life itself
and who will give us always the memory
that not all was tears.

Todo el silencio se escapa
entre gritos y discusiones
No hablemos de paz, ni de amor
digamos una despedida
con dignidad y decoro
En honor del amor que fue
hagamos las maletas
con recuerdos alegres.
Tiremos los malos tiempos
al cesto de la basura.
Y en un momento dulce,
deséame suerte
Démonos un abrazo
y seamos amigos para siempre
Que no quede posesión
Ni bandera de guerra entre nosotros
Que no hagan falta cuarteles,
sino dos manos que se estrechan
con cariño, sin rencor
Acaso algun abrazo
Un beso en la mejilla
que nos marquen
el cambio de estación:
Fin del ríspido invierno
principio de una
permanente primavera
en la que el norte y sur
de nuestras vidas
sea el fruto visible de nuestro amor.
Lo único que nunca perderemos:
Esa mirada azul como el nuevo tiempo
como la esperanza, como la vida misma
y que nos regalará siempre el recuerdo
de que no todo aqui fueron lágrimas

2008-02-21T23:24:00.004-05:00

What is our story made of?
If not of emptiness and sorrows
And yet we go on
For some strange reason
That escapes all sense
Dreaming with a different tomorrow
An awakening of tenderness
And the miracle of a strengthened love
Of the years together
That become our life,
Our agony and it’s silence

* * * * * * * * * *

¿De que está hecha nuestra historia?
Sino de vacíos y tristezas
Y sin embargo seguimos
Por alguna extraña razón
Que escapa todo sentido
Soñando con un mañana diferente
Un despertar de la ternura
Y el milagro de un amor fortalecido
De los años juntos
Que se vuelven nuestra vida
Nuestra agonía y su silencio

I go

2008-02-14T23:29:00.002-05:00

I go with the night,
to admire the past
To sing to freedom
and seek for horizons,
lakes, rivers
To find strengths,
passions and life
I go holding hands
with time, my friend
To continue whispering planets
for whomever will hear them
To see springs of stars,
summer solitudes
And find in the distance
reasons, because and tomorrows
Lagoons of essence
Promises without fear or cold
I go to seek who I am
and what I live for
To calm the dawn
and drink the mist
I go today, at once
before the path disappears
while I can walk,
travel on the one I get
even if it’s the one of oblivion.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Me voy

Me voy con la noche
a mirar el pasado
A cantar la libertad
A buscar horizontes,
lagos, ríos
A encontrar fortalezas
pasiones y vida
Me voy de la mano
del tiempo, mi amigo
A seguir susurrando planetas
al que quiera oírlos
A ver manantiales de estrellas,
soledades de estío
Y encontrar a lo lejos
razones, porques y mañanas
Lagunas de esencia
Promesas sin miedo ni frío
Me voy a buscar quien soy
y para que vivo
A calmar el alba
y beberme el rocío
Me voy hoy, de una vez
antes de que se esfume el camino
mientras pueda andar,
viajar por el que me toca
aunque sea el del olvido

Poem with no name #4

2008-02-02T20:10:00.000-05:00

I’m nothing but
a rat in a cage.
Hopelessness without soul
or breath
Empty hands
Mind full
of eternal pleonasms
Whispering weightlessness
that is lost with no meaning
Nothing left of me,
just this interrupted being
Prisoner of time
in a grotesque reality
Abominable life
Pompous deception
Open insult
Lie, not merciful
rather destructive

• * * * * * * * * * * *

No soy más que
una rata en una jaula
Sin salida ni luz
Desesperanza sin alma
ni aliento
Manos vacías
Mente llena
de pleonasmos eternos
Ingravidez susurrante
que se pierde sin sentido
No queda de mi nada,
sólo este ser interrumpido
Preso en el tiempo
en una realidad grotesca
Abominable vida
Decepción altisonante
Insulto abierto
Mentira, que no piadosa,
Más bien destructiva.

Madrid

2008-01-22T09:57:00.000-05:00

It’s the dream that doesn’t arrive
The land which the old left
to seek
what they didn’t have
the horizon the young look for
to exit our prisons
Uncertain sea, and yet, new hope
Erase and forget
Without anything but two hands and much work
And the day of arrival vanishes
Between the shadows of reality
And stays between a forest of errors
And clumsy decisions
Between chains of rules
Invented to avoid the flight
Of dreamers
Heavy links of lead
that sink in the sea
the most precise navigator
But the dream remains
the land awaits, unmovable
that one day the journey continues
and the destiny gets fulfilled
with the arrival, finally, to the dream.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Es el sueño que no llega,
La tierra de la que salieron
Los viejos para buscar
Lo que no tenían
El horizonte que buscamos los jovenes
Para salir de nuestras prisiones
Mar incierto, y sin embargo, esperanza nueva
Borro y olvido
Sin más que dos manos y mucho trabajo
Y el día de llegada se desvanece
Entre las sombras de la realidad
Y se queda entre un bosque de desaciertos
Y decisiones torpes
Entre cadenas de reglas
Inventadas para evitar el vuelo
De los soñadores
Pesados eslabones de plomo
que hunden en el mar
al más preciso navegante
Pero sigue ahí el sueño
Y la tierra espera, inamovible
que algún día el viaje continúe
y el destino se concrete
con la llegada por fin al sueño

The Pendulum

2008-01-22T09:31:00.003-05:00

Life passes with it’s pendulum
Over me, impassible, unstoppable
Tum, tum, tum
In my head it’s movements are repeated
Tum, tum, tum
In the silence of this afternoon
There is no one who can listen to it
It’s a noise that never stops,
and that robs me peace
Life gives options
Gives complications
Gives struggles
And the pendulum balances over me
Tum, tum, tum
Recreating my fears
Freedom shows by my door
The prison shows in my soul
Real prisons and fictitious ones stop my flight
And the tum, tum, tum
That doesn’t stop for a second
Tum, tum, tum
Until my mind explodes
And in the depth of destruction
The lost being may show up
Between the tum, tum, tum
Of this life´s pendulum

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

El Péndulo

La vida pasa con su péndulo
Sobre mí, impasible, imparable
Tum, tum, tum
Se repiten en mi sien sus movimientos
Tum, tum, tum,
En el silencio de esta tarde
no hay nadie que lo escuche
Es un ruido que no se detiene,
y que me roba la paz
La vida pone opciones
Pone complicaciones
Pone luchas
Y el péndulo se balancea sobre mi
Tum, tum, tum
Recreando mis miedos
La libertad se asoma a la puerta
La celda se asoma en mi alma
Prisiones reales y ficticias me detienen el vuelo
Y el tum, tum, tum
Que no para por un segundo
Tum, tum, tum
Hasta que me estalle la mente
Y en el fondo de la destrucción
Aparezca de nuevo ese ser perdido
Entre el tum, tum tum
De este pédulo de esta vida

I would like...

2008-01-19T11:23:00.002-05:00

for Abi, wherever you are.../para Abi donde quiera que estés...

I would like to wipe with my lips your silence,
with notes of salt and wind erase your tears.
Paint on your lips, with the tip of my fingers
an endless smile
Hold you till the world ends
Free you from sorrow and anguish
To dominate with strong arms the ignominy
And with great decision defeat uncertainty
But my smallness is such:
that your silences are mine,
your tears daggers that rip my clouds
and I can’t paint a smile on your lips
because I can barely sketch one on mine
I can’t free you,
or dominate ignominy
when uncertainty rules my life
I can only, if you let me, hold you
till my world ends, as little as it is,
as tiny as it sounds
to say I love you

* * *

Quisera…

Quisiera enjugar con mis labios tu silencio,
con notas de sal y viento borrar tus lágrimas.
Pintar en tus labios con la punta de mis dedos
una sonrisa interminable.
Abrazarte hasta que se acabe el mundo
Liberarte de penas y angustias
Dominar con brazos fuertes la ignominia
Y con gran decisión vencer la incertidumbre
Pero mi pequeñez es tal:
que tus silencios son los míos,
tus lágrimas puñales que desgarran mis nubes
y no puedo pintar una sonrisa en tus labios
por que apenas puedo esbozar una en los míos.
No puedo tampoco liberarte,
ni dominar la ignominia
cuando la incertidumbre domina mi vida.
Sólo puedo, si me dejas, abrazarte
hasta que se acabe mi mundo, asi de pequeño como es,
asi de ínfimo como suena
decirte que te quiero…

Exile

2008-01-17T09:56:00.002-05:00

In the route of silence I walk, with steps that mark the horizon. Far from the land and far from my destiny, on the fragile direction of life’s path.
I scream and allude the melancholy of this misunderstood existence, this absurd essence of air I am.
By the sea I go, like the sailor or the discoverer rowing and swimming I move away from the piece of universe that saw me born. Seeking tears, hunter of summer, judge and part of this endless story.
Abject, voluptuous. Mobile and immobile at the same time, I seek again the trees of my homeland.
That homeland of indecisive color, of uncertain smells, of endless sorrows.
I turn my eyes confused to the high heaven, to the impetuous ocean that is released from your mouth.
Abandoned and ethereal as a dream, I sit and wait for your chimerical presence that never comes.
Loneliness born from your betraying lips.
Land you are then, in which to dream, which in exile I long for. Abstinence of you, limitless freedom in the swell of present.
Succession of sad thoughts, of my blood drops lost in this quiet desert, invaded by weariness.
I don’t breath, vampiric obsession, death for your absence.
The blue branches of your existence broken, ripping till finishing in the absolute exile of your inexistence.

***********************************

Exilio

En la ruta del silencio camino con pasos que marcan el horizonte. Lejos de la tierra y lejos de mi destino, por la frágil dirección del sendero de la vida.
Grito y aludo a la melancolía de esta incomprendida existencia, de esta absurda esencia de aire que soy.
Por la mar me voy como el marinero o el descubridor remando y nadando me alejo del pedazo de universo que me vió nacer. Buscando lágrimas, cazador de estío, juez y parte de esta interminable historia.
Abyecto, voluptuoso. Móvil e inamovible al mismo tiempo, busco de nuevo los árboles de mi patria. Esa patria de color indeciso, de olores inciertos, de pesares interminables.
Vuelvo los ojos confuso al alto cielo, al impetuoso océano que se desprende de tu boca. Abandonado y etéreo como un sueño, me siento y espero tu quimérica presencia que no llega nunca.
Soledades que nacieron de tus labios traicioneros. Tierra eres pues, en la que soñar, la que desterrado añoro. Abstinencia de ti, libertad sin límite en la marejada del presente. Sucesión de pensamientos tristes, de gotas de mi sangre que se pierden en éste desierto callado, invadido de hastío.
No respiro, vampírica obsesión, muerte por ausencia.
Las ramas azules de tu existencia rotas, quebradas se desangran hasta terminar en el exilio absoluto de tu inexistencia.

Sadness

2007-12-12T21:50:00.002-05:00

The prison is closed and in the darkness
There are two souls
That don’t know if they love each other
Or if they forget each other in each word
That is not said
That is not heard
In all the lost hours
Full of mistakes
of being there with the soul gone
of broken dreams
of heavy chains
with the melancholy of the future
that is no more
because there is no more to expect
together for all the wrong reasons
that so absurd result
when you see freedom on the side
and are trapped without uttering a word

I want to fly
I want to die
Dream I’m free
That life has an ocean of options
An abyss of hope
And instead I find
A desert of “because”
Laberyths of reasons
Where I don’t find a way out
And instead of flying
My soul floods with tears
And the wings break again
Trying to escape reality
No exit, no fly
Never freedom

Nothing to do
When love dies
Like the roses loose the petals in the cold
Hope is seen, but it’s not real
Just ilusions of mad people sleeping
Love doesn’t exist
There is the mirage that we see sometimes
In the desert of loneliness
That from time to time keeps us alive
But for what?
Nothing that is worth it.

********************************

La prisión se cierra y en la oscuridad
Quedan dos almas solas
Dos que no saben si se aman
O si se olvidan en cada palabra
Queu no se dice
Que no se escucha
En tantas horas pasadas
Llenas de errores
De mentiras
De estar ahí con el alma en otro lado
De sueños rotos
De cadenas pesadas
Con la nostalgia del futuro
Que no existe ya
Por que no hay más que buscar.
Juntos por todas las razones
Que tan absurdas resultan
Cuando se ve de lado la libertad
Y que atrapan sin decir palabra

Quiero volar
Quiero morir
Soñar que soy libre
Que la vida tiene un océano de opciones
Un abismo de esperanza
Y en cambio me encuentro
Con un desierto de porqués
Laberintos de razones
Donde no encuentro salida
Y en vez de volar
Se me anega el alma de lágrimas
Y las alas se rompen otra vez
Intentando escapar la realidad
No hay salida, ni vuelo
Ni habrá nunca libertad

No hay nada que hacer
Cuando el amor se muere
Es como las rosas que se desohan con el frío
Se ve esperanza, pero no es real
Son sólo ilusiones de locos dormidos
El amor no existe
Está ese espejismo que vemos a veces
En el desierto de la soledad
Que de cuando en cuando nos mantiene vivos
¿Pero para qué?
Nada que valga la pena.

Poem with no name #3

2007-12-07T09:36:00.000-05:00

They live just to live
They sleep with no sleep
Sing to catch a breath
They are lost souls
The stolen hearts
That make a bridge
In the winter night
To embrace
To love silently
Tired and sad
They share excuses
Not to love each other
Not to take chances
Because they are lost souls
No one’s

Poema sin nombre #3

Viven por vivir,
Duermen sin dormir
Cantan para buscar el aliento
Son las almas perdidas
Los corazones robados
Que se tienden un puente
En la noche de invierno
Para darse un abrazo
Para amarse en silencio
Cansados y tristes
Comparten pretextos
Para no amarse
Para no arriesgarse
Por que son almas perdidas
De nadie

The Shadow

2007-11-25T23:59:00.001-05:00

It’s believed, and it is true, that I’m nothing but the projection of an opaque body over the walls and floors of this city full of tragic disenchantment. Sometimes short, sometimes long, depending on the hour or the quality of light, and in the lack of it, abandoned to others’ eyes I remember the years when I was not this. I was once a young woman, I walked with firm steps, with no fear of life, not ugly, or beautiful, rather plain, and somehow quiet, and with an impetuous interest to be different. I wanted to live, and dream, and I spent endless hours creating and recreating dreams, with a profound avidity of knowledge, of experience; took all in: every detail, every person in my path and made them mine in the depths of my soul, in my favorite place of memories, which I retraced often to relive my own and unique little oasis of stories. And so wanted life for me to meet him. One more traveler, for my imagination, the wondering knight of my childhood castles… and between the remembrance of so many hours with my father drawing princess and dragons and my passion for the exotic filled his eyes with an unknown color.
I left from all I knew, without knowing the destination, or the sailor in whose hands I placed my destiny, but in loved. Of the traveler or love itself? It doesn’t matter now. And in exile I encountered for the first time the word “foreigner”. It was a word, by it’s context and tone, so offensive and so close to me, who always felt strange in my own land, and yet never imagined what it is like to feel rejection, scorn and though the color of my skin is the same as theirs, the racism.
I learned that a smile is not always corresponded with another if you don’t belong to the same flock.
In the beginning I tried to smile to defeat the gray faces, day after day with no success trying to plow in the sea of their bitterness. Until my lips started to loose the cheerful flexibility and every time it became harder to find reason to laugh at my fate. I ended up forgetting how to arch the muscles of my mouth to express pleasure. I didn’t smile again. That was my first defeat.
The traveler engrossed in his thought didn’t mind the lack of happiness, that sometimes annoyed him, being himself one of them.
Bitterness was not enough, the sound of my voice was also foreigner. The moon language, difficult to learn, was not within the reach of a foreigner like me, I tried to learn it, and succeeded some advances in the knowledge of it, but perfection was demanded. No one understood what I said, even in their own tongue. The accent, clearly, told that I was not a part of the group. I tried to participate of the meeting and conversations, but no one understood, or even tried to listen and I started to hate, little by little as much as they hated me. Even though it took me longer because I was not born hating the ones I don’t know.
And him, the traveler that took me from my home some times I loved him madly, but others, so many, so many more, the resentment for this hell of silence they were subjecting me made me detest him, but I needed him to survive, he was my only link to the living world. When I least expected it, I grew tired of trying to communicate with them and I began staying silent, in a corner, observing their pale and absurd faces. The vocal cords without use became atrophied till I couldn’t produce a sound. The traveler, quiet man, appreciated the permanent mute that exempted him from all conversation. And silent, as a trained child between repressive grown ups, I followed him everywhere, but I still observed, their tough characteristics, their sour gestures, their lack of movement and imagination, and that too offended them, the secret smile of a glance that seeks some sympathy in their eyes, a little compassion, mercy or any other human feeling.
We foreigners have no right to see them either, not even to wander with the lost sight amongst the objects. And exhausted, silent, sad and distant, I closed my eyes forever.

The traveler held my hand and took me everywhere, and so that way I still go: walking without knowing my destination, just following him. No one takes my existence in account, as if I were not, and sometimes I, myself, wonder if I exist, if all is gray and colorless, when in the dark no one sees me and I can open my eyes and see that I am too old already, the traveler is dying and when he is gone, I shall be gone too, or perhaps no? We shall see...

Love

2007-11-24T17:55:00.000-05:00

Love, what a small word!
It barely sounds when softly whispered
How many hours spent thinking about it?
My love
How much time spent without you,
That is longued for every instant
Love, lips of heaven, eyes of wind
you are lost far in the depth
of a glance, of a silence
How many screens between us?
How many forests?
How many rivers?
How many seas?
And this small word that describes all:
Love, the night
Love, the secret
Love, the fire
Love, the loneliness
And you get in between all and above all
and when I think about love, I think about you,
and soon, you are all
You, the night
You, the secret
You, the fire
You, the loneliness
And I am nothing but the sand dragged by the sea,
the drop of water that rains
the leaf that falls with no will
I wait for you, and I follow you
and I find you there always
in that small word

********

Amor, ¡que palabra tan pequeña!
Apenas si suena cuando se suspira dulcemente
¿Cuántas horas se pasa pensando en él?
Amor mío
Cuánto tiempo que se pasa sin ti
Y que se añora cada instante
Amor, labios de cielo, ojos de viento
Que te pierdes lejano en la profundidad
De una mirada, de un silencio
¿Cuántas pantallas entre nosotros?
¿Cuántos bosques?
¿Cuántos ríos?
¿Cuántos mares?
Y esa palabra tan pequeña que lo describe todo:
Amor, la noche
Amor, el secreto
Amor, el incendio
Amor, la soledad
Y te metes entre todo y sobre todo
y cuando pienso en amor, pienso en tí,
y de pronto, tu lo eres todo
Tu, la noche
Tu, el secreto
Tu, el incendio
Tu, la soledad
Y yo no soy más que la arena que arrastra el mar,
la gota de agua que llueve
la hoja que cae sin voluntad
Te espero y te sigo,
y te encuentro allí siempre
en esa palabra tan pequeña.

You say you love me...

2007-11-19T21:52:00.000-05:00

You say you love me, and my heart is astonished
Can there be more accurate lips than yours?
The leaves may change, but in the concert of the night,
it´s your voice the one that remains clear.
Your lively eyes, of sand and water
that see me in my most clear light
Your near absence is the warmth
of my morning, the inspiration of my nights
and the greatest sin that floods my flame.

******************************************************

Me dices que me quieres, y el corazón se asombra
¿Puede haber unos labios más certeros que los tuyos?
Las hojas pueden cambiar, pero en el concierto de la noche,
es tu voz la que permanece clara.
Tus ojos vivos, de arena y agua
que me miran en mi luz más clara
Tu ausencia cercana es la calidez
de mi mañana, la inspiración de mis noches,
y el pecado más grande que inunda mi llama.

Poem with no name #2

2007-11-15T22:15:00.002-05:00

I listen to you in the echoes of the night
with the same voice, that always sings,
between my dreams
with the same lips that sang to me
and bewitched me
But it’s ony the echoe, your voice is silent
Between shadows I don’t find you.
In my sad nights there isn’t but the peace of the graves
and the dry lips
that miss the dream of you.
The ilusion of seeing you is lost
in a forest of doubt and anguish
I don’t understand your silences
or your sudden love
The flooding passion of one day
and the cold absence of the next.
I’m terrified by your ephimereal passion
that one day burns madly
and others passes like the flame under the rain.
While my heart is given out
it feels fragile and broken at times,
ecstatic and full of dreams another many
I excuse you and find pathethic my reasons
The excuses are no longer good
I feel the end come
and I refuse to wake up
but I think it is time
to see the light of morning
and asume the awakening
without you.

**************************

Te escucho en el eco de la noche
Con la misma voz, que canta siempre,
entre mis sueños,
con los mismos labios que me cantaron
y que me hechizaron,
pero sólo es el eco, tu voz está callada
y entre las sombras no te encuentro.
En mis noches tristes no hay sino la paz del sepulcro
y los labios secos
que echan de menos tu ensueño.
La ilusión de verte que se pierde
en un bosque de dudas y de angustia
No entiendo tus silencios
ni tus amores repentinos,
la pasión desbordada de un día
y la gélida ausencia de otro.
Me llena de temor tu pasión efímera
que un día arde con locura
y otros más pasa como flama bajo la lluvia.
Mientras, mi corazón que se entrega
Se siente frágil y roto por momentos,
Estático e ilusionado otros tantos,
Te disculpo y encuentro patéticas las disculpas
Las excusas no me sirven ya,
Siento el fin llegar
Y me niego a despertar.
Pero creo que va siendo ya hora
de ver la luz de la mañana
y asumir el despertar,
sin ti.

Days under the rain

2007-11-12T18:05:00.002-05:00

There are days, like today, where the heart sits under the rain,
between the willows, and cries too.
There is no comfort found even in the sweetest angel.
Bitterness makes path in the deep with mountain cane,
like Santiago’s road that never ends,
that continues for centuries waiting
for pilgrims to pass by it
leaving the trace of their miseries,
their pain, hoping for miracles.
Like that, the heart waits too for that which doesn’t exist:
The magical love that saves from the exile
of a stubborn solitude
of the Calvary of the day by day that runs out in death
but meanwhile, weights like a burden
tied to the impotent back.
The painful load of air that goes in and out,
that passes by and breaks in the lungs and gives life.
Such a sterile, useless life!
A time that passes in seconds that keep company to minutes,
hours full of survival from hell.
Blessed moment of closing ones eyes and not be anything more.
To cease to be forever, not hear the other’s lament,
or the own memory, total oblivion,
and finally, silence. The nothing!
Not knowing that in the compass that passes, on each note played
there is none for me,
not a word, not a memory.
Perhaps a distant sigh, with not enough strength to cross the sea
that shall be forgotten with everything else
in this passing with no end,
this abandoned fate I am.

***********************************************************************

Hay días como hoy en que el corazón se sienta bajo la lluvia,
entre los sauces, y llora también.
No se encuentra consuelo ni el ángel más dulce.
La amargura hace camino en lo profundo con callado,
como ruta de Santiago que no termina,
que sigue por siglos esperando
que peregrinos pasen por ella,
dejando la huella de sus miserias,
de sus dolores, esperando milagros.
Asi también espera el corazón lo que no existe:
Ese amor mágico que salva del destierro
de la soledad empecinada,
del calvario del día a día que se agota en la muerte
pero, que mientras tanto, pesa como fardo
adosado a la espalda impotente.
La dolorosa carga de un aire que entra y sale,
que pasa y se quiebra en los pulmones y que da vida.
¡Una vida tan estéril, tan inútil!
Un tiempo que pasa en segundos que acompañan a minutos eternos,
horas llenas de sobrevivencia de mierda.
Bendito el momento de cerrar los ojos y no ser nada más.
Dejar de ser para siempre, no escuchar el quejido ajeno,
ni la memoria propia, el olvido total,
al fin, el silencio. ¡La nada!
No saber que en el compás que pasa, en cada nota que se toca
no hay una sola para mí,
ni una sola palabra, ni un sólo recuerdo.
Acaso algún suspiro lejano, con poca fuerza para cruzar el mar,
que también se olvidará como todo lo demás
en este pasar que no termina,
este abandonado destino que soy yo.

The good friends.

2007-11-08T17:49:00.004-05:00

They are friends that love each other,
In their hearts nests the silence
of a warm and tender passion.
And yet they are affraid.
A fear that paralyzes and kills.
They can’t erase the dreams,
that slip through long conversations,
between the veiled looks, they remind them
that behind the eyes, come the lips
and behind lips there is desire
They can swear they are friends
The world has nothing to reproach them
Their friendship is chaste
but secretly, in the night, when they close their eyes
they know.
That truth that escapes them during the day
and takes away sleep during the nights
They know they dream of kissing,
of hugging down the street like anyone,
of holding hands like teenagers.
They feel the harshness of winter in their deepest
They know they are far
from being anything more than two friends in love
because fear is always in the middle,
between them as a giant wall of concrete
that keeps the hands still and the sins concealed.
And perhaps it’s not bad after all, that in their afternoons,
the longing that keeps them alive is kept locked
Reality could result a coarse imitation of the dream.

******************************************************************

Son amigos, se quieren,
En su corazón anida el silencio
de una pasión cálida, tierna
Y sin embargo tienen miedo.
Un miedo que paraliza y mata.
No consiguen borrar los sueños
que se cuelan entre conversaciones largas,
entre las miradas que veladas, les recuerdan
que detrás de los ojos van los labios
y detrás de los labios está el deseo.
Pueden jurar que son amigos
El mundo no tiene nada que reprocharles.
Su amistad es casta,
pero en secreto, en la noche, cuando cierran los ojos,
los dos saben.
Esa verdad que se les escapa de día
y les quita el sueño por las noches.
Saben que sueñan con besarse,
con abrazarse por la calle como cualquiera,
con andar de la mano como adolescentes.
Sienten la dureza del invierno en lo más profundo,
Saben que están lejos de ser más que un par de amigos enamorados
por que el miedo siempre está en medio,
entre los dos como una gigante barda de concreto
que mantiene las manos quietas y los pecados encerrados.
Y quizá no sea del todo malo, que en sus atardeceres,
quede encerrado el anhelo que los mantiene vivos
no sea que la realidad resultara una burda imitación del sueño.

The vampire

2007-11-07T22:45:00.001-05:00

She hadn’t eaten in two weeks. Her lips were dry and crackled, the tongue without saliva stuck to her palate, it felt as an old rag between her sharp teeth.
The conflict between her own survival and that of her victims was killing her. She didn’t want to kill, but if she didn’t do soon she would deteriorate without repair. So she went to the street to find a prey with the sorrow of someone that doesn’t want to follow the dictation of her nature but obeys her destiny with no choice. The streets at dawn were full of zombies, people living in misery and the drunks coming out from their party, the loneliness, the wet asphalt after the rain. And all those beings ready there to become victims, non prepared to die tonight. She could see it in their eyes the lost sight, the emptiness. She didn´t want to cut short the time for someone who was not ready. She found herself excuses not to attack when she passed by them and felt the smell of warm blood in each and everyone of this dark beings that crossed her path, without even noticing her.
It was then when she saw him, it was him. A bit older. Walking on the same street, alone, with the same air as usual, the same with shoulders. She followed him without him knowing. It was ironic, today she was going to kill, she was going to do what all vampires in the world do, with guilt or without it and she found him there at this precise moment. Work of fate, no doubt. His time had come, and she thought she couldn’t wait any longer, however she followed him as he turned to the left.
Several years had passed since they met. He used to play every night in a bar, she went to find prey, when she had no guilt to be what she was. But one night he invited her a drink, she knew she couldn´t devour him without awaking suspicion, so she played along. He was fascinating and charming. He was bright and young, she knew what she wanted with her 116 years but he made her feel nervous and excited as a teenage girl. He started by touching her hand and a strange chill crossed all her body, little was needed for them to end up in her apartment like to wild people. A night she could never forget and in 116 years many nights fit, very few as that one. Between kisses, anxious hands, unstoppable, eyes that registered every movement with mad desire, with over flooding passion. And her with the fine sense of smell of the vampire aspiring every essence, but above all the smell of his blood in effervescence, she felt her teeth coming out, the tips touched her tongue, then fresh and lively, his neck invited her for a taste.
Just a bit-, she thought, but the pleasure was greater so she stopped before biting. The morning came and he promised to call. She thought he wouldn’t do it, but he did. And they saw each other that same day, and the next and many more. She woke up with the joy of having him there between her arms, of feeling his warmth and his company every day, and every night. How ever his neck was always there, she came close and kissed it, and felt her teeth coming out waiting for a bite. The call of the blood sometimes felt stronger than her feelings for him. Between the animal attraction she started feeling that need of him, of his voice, his presence, the word exchange, of the hours spent together just gazing at each other’s eyes that humans call love and vampires find so hard to define. But he wanted to be with her all the time and she found less and less chances to sneak out to hunt. And one of many dawns together, while he was sleeping, she went out. She went to find prey, carefully, quietly, with her black coat wrapped in shadows between the darkness, exactly as this night when he sees him again. She found some sleeping beggar and she threw herself over his neck mercilessly draining him till the last drop impatiently. When she was done, she raised her eyes only to see her lover's eyes horrified, her lips were still covered with the beggar’s blood, her retractile teeth still out, she tried to explain but he refused to listen. “Stay away from me! You are a monster!” he shouted as he run away from her. For the very first time in her life she felt ashamed of her nature? No one had ever called her that, but what was worst was the terror in his eyes which said a lot more. She was used to terrified eyes of others, but never some eyes that before saw her with tenderness, with desire. And for the first time since her blood baptism she felt like crying.
She stopped eating, spacing the “meals”. She missed him in the nights, but specially in the mornings. And she lost interest in all. Every time she attacked when she saw her victim’s eyes, she could see his face again and it stole all the grace of her kiss of death. She had never been this long without eating. And finally she had decided to do so again; her instinct didn’t allow it to go on for much longer, after all, vampires are immortal and they can’t starve to death, they just deteriorate and loose everything.
Suddenly he felt her steps behind him and looked at her. His face reflected astonishment and fear. He never expected to see her again, but there she was with the same brunette long hair over the shoulders, with the coat he saw her the first time, the same she wore when he saw her full of the beggar’s blood like a beast. She was much thinner, her face was paler than usual, her eyes a bit sunken were still the shiny olive green eyes, her crackled lips were the same he had kissed to madness, the same where the poor man’s blood came out. She approached him and kissed him in the cheek, delicately, almost as a breath of air. He felt like running, but something more powerful than him kept him there. She caressed his face and observed him for a long time, she smiled. His time was up, it was time to be who she was with no guilt. Then, she traced his neck with her fingers sweetly, putting the jacket aside and brought her lips close. She felt intoxicated, her teeth were showing again, she kissed tenderly the neck she so much desired, while he felt paralyzed, at once terror and desire, the power of persuasion of the vampire that with one look dominates others and makes them offer the neck without hesitating, together with the old love he had felt for her and the memory of all the nights he only lived with her,kept him immovable. She got her teeth closer to his skin and he felt them tearing it down slowly, soon they were in and he felt the vertigo of the bite. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, more like an ecstasy that invaded him, nevertheless he soon started feeling very weak, he felt more and more her lips biting with avidity, little by little he was feeling with no strength at all. She masterfully helped him to lay down on the floor without stopping the bite for a second. When he felt close to death, she stopped, she opened his lips and put some blood to his tongue and between his teeth. He tasted it, and he felt a sudden urge for more, much more, but she stopped and stood up, and after a long look she said: “Who’s the monster now?”. She left him in the pavement alone and confused and disappeared with her ethereal walk by the wet street, between the fog of dawn, satisfied with a smile on her –again- red lips. He would call her, she knew it. Now he was like her…

Announced end.

2007-11-04T21:09:00.000-05:00

I would like to stop my heartbeat for an instant.
Just a second, to see your eyes with no fear.
Not to listen anymore, your steps that move away in the horizon
The serious tone of your voice that transforms from sweet to distant per moments
The tic tac of the clock continues and takes away my sense,
it leaves me a deep hollow, in the center, in the chest.
It all seems the same, but memory, that keeps count of the damage
tells me this afternoon will not be the same
that your peace will leave my life the same way it came.
That lonely beings are just that: creatures of the steppe.
There is who was born to be happy, others came to survive
a dramatic fall after another.
Can I fly looking at the horizon,
with the wind up front and dawn ahead,
waiting with no rush for you to leave
and dreaming with impatience that you come back?
I don’t sleep already, waiting for the moment.
The eyes open at one, at three, it is the same, the hours don’t go by
when you know the end.
Because it will come, it always does.
“We” is a ephemeral person that only exists between shadows and dreams.
And maybe in an afternoon like this,
with a bit of luck, some wave has mercy of my weariness
and brings me back your smile although only for awhile
at least to give my heart back it’s beat.

*****************************************************

Quisiera detener el latido de mi corazón por un instante.
Un segundo tan sólo, para ver tus ojos sin miedo.
No escuchar más, tus pasos que se alejan en el horizonte.
El tono grave de tu voz que se transforma de dulce en distante por momentos.
Continúa el tic tac del reloj y se lleva mi sentido,
me deja un hueco profundo, en el centro, en el pecho.
Todo parece igual, pero la memoria, que lleva la cuenta de los daños,
me dice que esta tarde no será igual,
que tu paz se irá de mi vida como vino.
Que los seres solitarios somos sólo eso: esteparios.
Hay quien nació para ser felíz, otros vinimos para sobrevivir
una dramática caída tras otra.
¿Podré volar mirando al horizonte,
con el viento de frente y la aurora delante,
esperando sin prisa que te vayas
y soñando con impaciencia que regreses?
No duermo ya, esperando el momento
Los ojos abiertos a la una, a las tres, da lo mismo, las horas no pasan
cuando se sabe el fin.
Por que llegará, siempre llega.
“Nosotros” es una persona efímera que sólo existe entre sombras y sueños.
Y quizá en una tarde como esta,
con un poco de suerte, alguna ola se apiade de mi hastío
y me devuelva tu sonrisa aunque sea por un rato,
cuando menos para devolverle a mi corazón su latido.

Reconstruction #1

2007-10-29T23:04:00.000-04:00

Everything has been in vain
The phone ringing, the hours that have passed
like years and that go without being remembered.
The caresses that feel like pathethic excuses
of a love that never was.
And this morning I feel free.
I feel the heart grown with hope:
I can be “me”. That word so often forgotten between us.
That being that little by little has been bleached
between tears and days of prison.
This person that doesn´t need anyone to be,
to live, to grow.
That of which I once was so proud,
and that now is only a sketch of what it was.
I can be again. Fill myself with strength,
decide to walk right or left.
Hold my head up high because I´m a woman
because I have loved, and because I have ceased to love
because I can be a mother and be happy
because I can be lover, friend and so much more
because I don’t need more than the air I breathe
the green trees and the blue sea.
Be again that who moved in the wind with her self-confident walk
With fear of nothing, up front and without thinking on what will come.

Todo ha sido en vano
El sonar del teléfono, las horas que han pasado,
como años y que se van sin que nadie las recuerde.
Las caricias que se sienten como patéticas excusas
de un amor que nunca fue.
Y esta mañana me siento libre.
Siento el corazón crecido de esperanza:
Puedo ser “yo”. Esa palabra tan olvidada entre nosotros.
Ese ser que poco a poco se ha ido desdibujando
entre lágrimas y días de encierro.
Esa persona que no necesita de otra para ser,
para vivir, para crecer.
Esa que de la que alguna vez estuve tan orgullosa,
y que hoy es sólo un bosquejo de lo que fue.
Puedo ser de nuevo. Llenarme de mi fuerza,
decidir si camino a la derecha o a la izquierda.
Llevar la cabeza en alto por que soy mujer
por que he amado, por que he dejado de amar
por que puedo ser madre y ser felíz
por que puedo ser amante, amiga y tanto más
por que no me hace falta más que el aire que respiro,
los árboles verdes y el azul de mar.
Ser de nuevo esa que se movía en el viento con su andar desparpajado,
sin miedo a nada, de frente y sin pensar en lo que vendrá.

I seek for you...

2007-10-26T20:52:00.002-04:00

I seek for you in silence between the bars of my prison
Angel that sets me free from the lonely afternoon.
You know my nearest secrets, and I feel you,
between my four walls, like a breath of wind,
as the morning bringing light
over this night shadow I have become,
with your clear hands and your eyes that don´t lie.
The smile that in a moment turns into an open laughter
And I feel a bit more free when you are near,
even when distance can be freezing.
Because even if a thousand seas were in between
my heart would beat as strong with your words
You stop my step facing the hurricane of my senses
And protect me from myself and my madness.
With gentleness you wrap my anguish in your peace
and you think you give me back my soul,
without knowing you take it with you
hidden between forbidden hugs.

**************************************

Te busco en silencio entre las rejas de mi prisión
Ángel que me liberas de la tarde solitaria.
Conoces mis secretos más cercanos, y te siento,
entre mis cuatro paredes, como soplo de viento,
como la mañana que trae luz
sobre esta sombra nocturna que me he vuelto,
con tus manos claras y tus ojos que no mienten.
La sonrisa que se vuelve por momentos en franca carcajada
Y me siento un poco más libre cuando estás cerca,
aunque la distancia pueda ser tan helada.
Por que aunque estuvieran cien mares en medio
mi corazón latiría igual de fuerte con tus palabras.
Detienes mi paso frente al huracán de mis sentidos
Y me proteges de mi misma, de mi locura
Con delicadeza envuelves mi angustia en tu paz
y crees que me devuelves el alma,
sin ver que la llevas contigo,
escondida entre abrazos prohibidos.

Autumn Morning #1

2007-10-22T20:13:00.002-04:00

My loneliness resembles the shreds of torn clouds of this morning.
I walk without sense, under the autumn cherry trees,
I find their reds and gold hurtful in front of the paleness of my soul,
that mask with a smile that blurred lets a pair of tears show.
They escape, aloof, searching for the dry soil of this year with no rain,
even when it pours in me on this morning of oblivion
So many empty and senseless words! so many promises!
The mask bleaches under the mist
The pale sun lights it, but it doesn´t warm it
Languishes the grass, that was, before, green, filled with hope,
today dry and withered awaits implacable winter.
The birds keep me company in duel with their chant.
The mistakes make echo on each of their voices
and in the silence of my being escapes a whisper
It´s better to hush, words interrupt the concert of their voices
The roaring of the wind puts the leaves out of order
and takes some to stop by my path
It cracks, it breaks like my stability and my peace
The cold touches my face softly and caresses it,
I get a cold chill that is erased by his memory
A smile that appears and is erased in time
and another burst of wind takes it away, and I am alone again
with the present and the past that fuse in a point going nowhere
but the eternal monotony.

***************************************************************************************

Mi soledad parece los girones de nubes desgarradas de esta mañana
Camino sin rumbo, bajo los cerezos en otoño, sus rojos y dorados
me resultan de lastimoso colorido frente a la palidez de mi alma,
esa careta de sonrisa que desdibujada asoma un par de lágrimas.
Escapan, esquivas, buscando el suelo seco de este año que no llueve,
aunque en mi' dil'uvie esta mañana de olvido.
¡Cuántas palabras huecas y sin sentido!, ¡cuántas promesas!
La careta se decolora bajo el rocío,
el sol pálido la ilumina, pero no la calienta
Languidece el pasto, que antes verde llenaba de esperanza,
hoy seco y marchito espera el invierno implacable.
Los pájaros me acompañan en el duelo con su trino.
Los errores hacen eco en cada una de sus voces
y en el silencio de mi ser escapa un suspiro.
Es mejor callar, las palabras interrumpen el concierto de sus voces.
El rugir del viento que desarregla las hojas,
y lleva algúna a parar por mi camino.
Cruje, se rompe, como mi estabilidad y mi paz.
El frío toca mi cara suavemente y la acaricia,
me da un escalofrío que se borra con su recuerdo.
Una sonrisa que aparece y se desdibuja en el tiempo,
Y otra ráfaga de viento se la lleva, me quedo sola de nuevo
con el presente y el pasado que se funden en un punto que no va a ninguna parte
más que a la monotonía eterna.

forgiveness #1

2007-10-21T20:13:00.000-04:00

It´s so easy to hurt,
The path to love is intricate,
There is confusion, needs, sins and delirium
And in this way between desire and love
One looses count of the steps, and sometimes
we stay locked between the mark of our fears,
the power of our past, the anguish of the present
and in each new moon an ilusion is broken.
Cruelty shows even on the sweetest hearts,
and hopelesness fills that need to find something else,
when you find that loneliness is never filled
Sometimes lips talk on their own,
they take out the seed of hatred on who deserves it the least
and the reckless heart fills with bitterness
an undeserving offense stains the soul of that who does it
and takes the peace of that who receives it.
No excuse is possible to be cruel
but you can hope forgiveness
that resores the order to chaos that creates
the loneliness and the dramatic end that desire provokes
when guilt and bitterness fill the soul.

Es tan fácil hacer daño,
El camino al amor es intrincado,
Hay confusiones, necesidades, pecados y delirios
Y en ese camino entre el deseo y el amor
Se pierde la cuenta de los pasos, y a veces
Nos quedamos atrapados entre la huella de nuestros miedos,
El poder del pasado, la angustia del presente,
Y en cada luna nueva se rompe una ilusión,
La crueldad asoma aún en los corazones más dulces
Y la desesperanza llena esa necesidad de buscar algo más,
Cuando se encuentra que la soledad no se llena nunca
A veces los labios hablan por su cuenta,
Sacan la semilla de odio en quien menos lo merece
Y el corazón desenfrenado se llena de amargura
Una ofensa inmerecida mancha el alma a quien la hace
Y enturbia la paz a quien la recibe,
No hay excusa que valga cuando se es cruel
Pero se puede esperar el perdón,
Que reestablezca el orden en el caos que crea
La soledad y el dramático desenlace que provoca el deseo
Cuando la culpa y la amargura llenan el alma

Night wake #1

2007-10-19T23:57:00.002-04:00

Who can let death invade our senses?
We can’t see, with dry lips and naked eyes, the killing, because our soul would turn to shreds.
Instead we sing and love, we live forgetful of exile, ignominy.
We fill ourselves of our own idiotic loneliness and we forget hunger, misery, injustice and we sleep in beds with soft mattresses, on loving arms, breathing oblivion.
And meanwhile the earth spins, the poles don´t change and the truth continues to be the same: the ones on top are luckier than the ones below.
But for both, a child sleeping is a smile that fills the soul, a hope that caresses peace, and a dead child is a tear that never ends, the unnatural blow that tears it all. And in the end we are not so different.
Some luckier to be born on the right hemisphere, we forget about the others, but when it comes to tears and kisses: we are the same clay, Adam’s same rib. Some more comfortable than others: with the same passions, the same lies, the same innocence.
What changes is the way and the reasons to cry and laugh.

***********************************************************************

¿Quién puede dejar que la muerte nos invada los sentidos?
No podemos ver, con labios secos y ojos desnudos, la matanza por que el alma se nos haría girones.
A cambio cantamos y amamos, vivimos ajenos al destierro, a la ignominia. Nos llenamos de nuestras propias idiotas soledades y olvidamos el hambre, la miseria, la injusticia y dormimos en camas con colchones suaves, en brazos amados respirando olvido.
Y mientras, la tierra gira, y los polos no cambian y la verdad sigue siendo la misma: los de arriba tienen más suerte que los de abajo.
Pero para los dos, un niño dormido es una sonrisa que llena el alma, una esperanza que acaricia la paz, y un niño muerto es lágrima que no termina, zarpazo antinatural que lo desgarra todo. Y al final no somos tan distintos.
Unos con suerte de nacer en el hemisferio correcto, nos olvidamos de los otros, pero cuando se trata de lágrimas y besos: somos todos la misma arcilla, la misma costilla de Adán. Unos más cómodos, otros menos: con las mismas pasiones, las mismas mentiras, la misma inocencia.
Lo que cambia es el modo y las razones para llorar y para reír.

The Jacaranda

2007-10-17T23:31:00.000-04:00

This is an old one, but very dear to my heart. Writen in 1996

If you ever come here,
when I have walked my path
look at this Jacaranda * and you shall remember me
If you ever come back here
when I´m gone
listen to the cardinal
that nests in it´s branches
If you ever return here
when my time is over
breath deep the wet soil

If you ever think of me
come back here and look at the street
upholstered with a carpet
of violet petals
If you ever, when I’m dead,
remember me
come here and sit under it´s shadow
Let it´s branches shelter you,
it´s shadow protect you,
It will tell you I have cried for you
and in the night I have screamed your name.

* Jacaranda is a tree with purple flowers in the spring, very common in Mexico City.

Si alguna vez vienes aquí,
cuando yo haya andado mi camino.
mira esta jacaranda y me recordarás
Si alguna vez vuelves aquí
cuando me haya ido
escucha al pequeño cardenal
que anida en sus ramas.
Si alguna cez regresas aqui,
cuando mi tiempo haya terminado,
aspira hondo la tierra mojada.

Si alguna vez piensas en mí
regresa aquí y mira la calle
tapizada con una alfombra
de pétalos violaceos.
Si alguna vez cuando haya muerto
me recuerdas,
ven aqui y siéntate bajo la sombra
de mi jacaranda.
Que sus ramas te cobijen,
que su sombra te proteja.
Ella te contará que he llorado por tí,
que en la noche he gritado tu nombre.

I have loved...

2007-10-12T23:47:00.002-04:00

I have loved

No one can ever say I have loved not.
The heart has been broken a thousand times,
But I never stopped myself from giving it.
For what to live, if not to give oneself with all,
What is left of me other than passing
By roads leaving trace of my steps.
What can you leave behind, if you have kept it all.
Yes, I have lived, and yes, I have loved
As many times as the leaves of the trees,
And in most I have loved love itself
Not the object of my affection
Yet I have given it all, all I had
All I could
And I found that
The more you give, the more you can give
The one who loves doesn´t empty, one fills
And in this path of the soul
Full of meetings and loses
I encounter your lips, written in time,
Your eyebrows of wind that inscribe themselves in my dreams
As a bad thought
And your words bouncing on my breast:
I´ve never loved, I´ve never lost,
And how I´d love to show you to loose, and win
With my heaven, give you that illusion you miss
The innocence of love that always wins
Even when the heart is lost in battle.

********************************************************
He amado

Nadie podrá decir nunca que no he amado.
El corazón se me ha roto mil veces,
pero nunca he dejado de darlo.
Para que vivir sino para entregarse con el todo,
que queda de mi si no es el haber pasado
por los caminos dejando rastro de mis pasos.
Que puede dejarse atrás, si se ha guardado todo para sí.
Sí, he vivido, y sí, me he enamorado
tantas veces como las hojas de los árboles,
y la mayoría me he enamorado del amor,
no del objeto de mi afección,
y sin embargo lo he dado todo, lo que he tenido,
lo que he podido,
y me he encontrado con que
entre más se da más se puede dar.
El que ama no se vacía, se llena.
Y en este camino del alma
Lleno de encuentros y de pérdidas,
Me encuentro con tus labios, escritos en el tiempo,
Y tus cejas de viento, que se inscriben en mis sueños
Como un mal pensamiento,
Y tus palabras que retumban en mi seno:
Nunca he amado, nunca he perdido,
Y como quisiera enseñarte a perder, y a ganar
Con el cielo mío, darte esa ilusión que te falta
La inocencia del amor que siempre gana
Aunque pierda el corazón en la batalla.

The Night

2007-10-09T23:30:00.000-04:00

For her it was a magical night. She could see the moon by the window. She was naked, lying over the bed with the soul fulfilled, the lips dry of so many kisses, she held him gently, silent, while he slept without knowing that for her a verse was made with every kiss, a poem with every touch that were permanently recorded in her heart. She looked at him in the silence of the night and listened to their heartbeats, their interlaced peaceful breathing.
She remembered the first time she saw him. A blind date, she , of course, refused to go, but her friends were persistent. So she ended up going with her oldest ugliest skirt, her old black boots and one of the many hippie shirts she had. She tied her hair on a pony tail and without any make-up just waited for them.
Luis and Julia had gotten the idea to find her someone to love. But she couldn´t be less interested. She had enough with her photography and her books.
He arrived to her house, the meeting point, a while before her friends. She opened the door and encountered some guy with a beard, with some rather long hair, by the shoulder, some funny eyeglasses, small lips, one could say he looked like werewolf with green velveteen trousers. She found him likeable, and yet, she felt uncomfortable with him, but he turned it all around with some pleasant conversation.
He told her he had just arrived from Spain, and that he found himself a little lost. His friends had all gotten married and now he found himself like the permanently unmarried uncle, a John with no Land. She understood him well and felt more at ease with him. At least all this wise man titles, Phd in physical anthropology , etc. that his friends had hung on him didn´t make him a smart ass monkey. Luis and Julia arrived late only to find them on the sofa laughing, talking about art movies like two kids, comparing all the movies they had seen.
She was very young, she was 21, he was 33, but they seemed to speak the same language regardless of time and space. The night went by fast, between glasses of wine, cigarettes and the looks that came and went from Luis to Julia that congratulated each other on this grand matchmaking success. And indeed it was a great idea to unite two lonely birds like them.
The four of them agreed to meet the next weekend. They said goodbye with a warm kiss on the cheek and a loving hand shake. He would call her.
She had sworn she would never wait the sound of the phone again, however there she stood and she passed by it thirty times and unhooked it just to make sure it had signal. He didn´t call, and she didn´t want to know more, she cancelled the date for next week. She was not in for another broken heart, she though when she explained to Julia the reason. Julia tried to excuse him, there must certainly would be a logical reason, but she didn´t want to know any reason at all, she was just not willing to take the chance.

He moved in the bed and started to snore loudly, while she smiled thinking perhaps one day she would know all his habits like an old married couple after many years.
And many years had passed since the sustainable development conference where they met again. He saw her from the other side of the room, and stood up to meet her. She didn´t want to talk much with him. The phone, after all, never rang. So she was cold and unpleasant and went to the other side of the room where Luis and Julia awaited for her.
Julia asked what he had said, and before she could answer went ahead to tell her they encountered him in the registration center that morning and he had said, quite embarrassed that back then, after they met for the first time, he lost his phone book and couldn´t call anyone. By that time, she was dating some guy, and she laughed to herself thinking about such a lousy timing! To show up then when things were going well.

They spent the conference like two rabbits that don´t dare to approach, looking at each other with quick glances. The shy wise man followed her around without daring to ask her to meet him again. She saw him and wished with all her heart he would come but since she was seeing someone she felt she didn´t want more trouble. However the night of the closure of the conference she couldn´t take it any longer and she came to him. She told him she had seen a movie he would love and with that she opened the door to his world, his eyes light up and they started talking as if they had seen each other the afternoon before. This time she got his number and said she would call. But she didn´t.

He opened his eyes, and gave her a long look, he held her tight against his chest and kissed her on the lips with sweetness. “I thought you had been a dream”, he said softly, and he caressed her hair while he kissed her again, just to go back to sleep with a smile.

A year passed before she called him after a breakup with the other guy. He picked up the phone half asleep, but immediately recognized her voice. They would go to the cinema. He picked her up in a yellow Volkswagen, the old bug model, that worked only half way, he called it Titaguas. When she came close she could see a pile of papers on the back seat. He was wearing the same green trousers he did when they met, but this time she was wearing her best jeans, a sweater she had bought on a trip to Paris, she was wearing perfume and she had straightened her hair. He noticed it, but he didn´t say a word, but she could tell he was nervous, almost insecure.
They had a delightful afternoon, after the cinema they spent hours seating, on the uncomfortable seats of the Titaguas talking about all and nothing. But not without first having danced with no music on the pavement in the middle of the street, like two mad lovers.
So they spent many afternoons and many days, without grand gestures just making each other happy, and one of those days they decided to put each other the title and call themselves a couple.
He wanted to marry her, but he didn´t dare ask. After all she had only 23 and a life ahead of her, much to do, to learn, to discover, He was a man already with his 35 and wanted a stable future. She wanted to wait. She didn´t want to make love to him until after they got married, but she didn´t say it, she just kept avoiding it, and avoiding it. And in all this avoiding and the words unspoken they drifted apart, and some nothing that neither of them could remember made them break up. One year after going to the cinema on the Titaguas and discovering that there was no one in the world more perfect for him than her and vice versa.
We humans are idiotic creatures: we can have happiness on the palm of our hand and just like water we let it run through our fingers.
The memory of that goodbye soured her heart while she was in his arms, thinking time had flown away from them in such absurd terms.
A few months after parting he married someone else. He lasted only 6 months married. She too got married. She had a couple of kids and a mediocre marriage that she ended when she couldn´t take the farce any longer.
She went to live in Madrid and for many years she didn´t hear anything about him, until that rainy autumn afternoon when they ran into each other in a bookshop in the Chamberí neighborhood, on the Fuencarral street.
He was 60, she was 48. He had grown a belly, he had scarce hair and a long white beard, she had the dyed hair to hide the gray, and dressed conservatively to hide the stretch marks, blubbers and cellulite that had come to her with aging. But the moment they saw each other it was as if the elixir of eternal youth had been injected through their veins. They had several drinks in a pub in Malasaña, and between words with no sense they touched each other with the avidity of a mad passion quieted by years, that suddenly exploited with their encounter. They went to her apartment. Clothes flew, busy hands recognized terrain, tracing all. Everything that in so many years of dreaming to touch was touched, caressed, kissed. Lips that encountered each other with rage, two eyes that crossed like two fires that collide in a dry forest. They made love like they and never done it before with anyone. With the passion and the love that had been missing from every night of their lives. And so fell the night over that afternoon, and while he was sleeping she had the certainty that this time it was forever.

poem with no name

2007-10-05T22:35:00.002-04:00

He is the voice that breaks the silence of her quiet nights,
The hand that traces, slowly, the contour of her nude back,
The kisses that fill in the blank spaces,
The mist that fills the loneliness with breath,
The passion awakened by the pillow,
When hours grow long and life short.

He is the dream that awake could not be,
And that, while sleeping, takes away the peace
The danger that grows, as night falls,
The day clears and she can’t wake up
The dream would vanish
And there would be no more nude hand tracing her silent back.

************************************

Es la voz que rompe el silencio de sus noches calladas,
La mano que traza, despacio, el contorno de su espalda desnuda,
Los besos que llenan los espacios en blanco,
el rocío que llena la soledad de aliento,
la pasión que despierta en la almohada,
cuando las horas se hacen largas y la vida corta.

Es el sueño que despierto no podría ser,
Y que, mientras dormido, arrebata la paz
En el peligro crece, mientras la noche avanza,
El día clarea y no puede despertar.
El sueño se esfumaría
Y no habría más mano desnuda recorriendo su espalda callada.

Poem 11

2007-09-30T23:35:00.000-04:00

A new tear falls
a whisper in silence,
the distance that fills the empty space.
Longing... fatigue
Love and other times: loss of love
One day after the other
the naked dance
of an endless life
in impasse, waiting to live
something that will mark
something that will take the feeling
that I´m lost without sense.
Something to distinguish my life from others.
A cry!
A word!
A stolen kiss, a photograph
a song never written
a broken soul, composed and recomposed
full of hope,
full of the miracle of life
of movement,
of a path willingly chosen
with strenght, with struggle, with truth
A freedom of my own,
a dream of my own
and yet I live!
In no man´s land
and words lost
in seconds that don´t return
Waiting
Dreaming...
Dying in the distance
full of empty spaces
of meaningless loneliness.

**************************

Una nueva lágrima que cae,-
un susurro en el silencio,
la lejanía que llena el espacio vacío
Añoranza... cansancio..
Amor, y algunas veces, hasta desamor
Un dia tras otro
la danza desnuda
de una vida que pasa interminable
en el impas, a la espera de vivir
algo que marque
algo que se lleve el sentimiento
de que me pierdo sin sentido
algo que distinga mi vida de otras-
¡Un grito!
¡Una palabra!
Un beso robado, una fotografia
la cancion nunca escrita,
el alma rota, compuesta, recompuesta
llena de esperanza
llena del milagro de la vida,
de movimiento,
de un camino fijo elegido a voluntad-
con fuerza, con lucha, con verdad
Una libertad mia, un sueño mio,
¡y todavía vivo !
En tierra de nadie, ‘
y palabras que se pierden con
segundos que no vuelven
Esperando....
Soñando...
Muriendo en la lejanía
llena de espacios vacios
y de soledad sin sentido.

The end of history

2007-09-28T22:41:00.001-04:00

“From now on, what can the world do under the sky?” Charles Baudelaire

I walk without sense through this forgotten streets. The loneliness of the wind is felt on every step. Avoiding dead bodies, I look for someone breathing, someone here, like I am: ALIVE.
Alive? Am I really alive? Perhaps I´m only a conscious expression that purgatory exists, perhaps beside me all this corpses are roaming without seeing me, and I´m unable to see them. My cristal existence, false and transparent amuses itself teeming the streets of this city stepping on burning asphalt that nearly melts my boot´s soles.
Oxygen fills my body. I feel intangible, unobservable. My cold hands lack of human touch and yet I feel!
Flesh and bone occupy the pavement. Human matter covered by incredibly light clothes, sheltered by modernity and style. With the purple lips and the lost sight here they lie, all these strangers. Between their bodies the avenue shines through. Even though it´s early the black sky forces the automatic street lights to be on, shedding light to my path. My clothes are heavy, but not as much as the oxygen tank. It´s impossibly hot.

I come home exhausted and sad of searching for you. I never thought absence could be so tough.
I let myself go on the couch to wait for the phone that is not ringing. I don´t think you are alive anymore.

I turn on the television, there is no signal. There is no one there. I have no idea where else can I look for you. This bloody cough that never leaves me bursts in, resounding. And with the sound of my lungs, from behind the sofa a snobish ball of gray hair observes me. It´s Freud who raises his tail and with a soft “miau” greets me with a complaint.
“There is no one left! Don´t you see? How could I be on time”, I tell him while he comes and with a little jump sets himself in my lap. I´m forgiven. Martiryring myself with memory I boast masochism and stupidity when the overwhelming reality brings me back to the world of the living, if there is anyone left, that is. I watch the black sky from my window and wonder how can it be so hot in such a deep, dark night.
Yesterday everything was calm, but the sky started to loose light. The air was taking longer to reach ones lungs; the rest, as usual. Insanely fighting to arrive faster one than the other. The cars could be heard up to the last floor of the building. And you swore it would be just another fire. How many were there? No one listened. Trees feel too and the earth is angry.
Freud sees me and “miauing” persistently, he is hungry. I go to the fridge only to see that as usual there is nothing to eat.
Why did you have to leave now? Why this sudden emancipation attack? You left slamming the door and what do I do now? I´m only some guy dragging an oxygen tank.
I try to forget hunger, but Freud insists, his miauing doesn´t stop. I can´t go out and see the chaos. Finally if you are fine you will call, if you aren´t what can I do just crawling down the streets?
The cat will not be quiet, in my head the face of death keeps spinning. The phone rings, I try to reach it as fast as I can, Freud jumps at it.
“Eva! Eva! Is it you?” I cry, but no one responds and the signal is lost.
Where are you? I only followed the treatment for you and now what?
The phone is dead. Time passes slowly without passing in a standstill in this overwhelming silence, only Freud breaks it with his voice.
Perhaps we could share the oxygen. I can´t anymore, with oxygen tank and all I go back out.
My walk gets difficult trying to avoid all this dead strangers, the bad smell of death comes to my nose even with the tank. The decomposing bodies release memoirs of lives ended. I follow my path to a shop, the clerk is there, lying on the counter, with all this food around him.
I take a couple of apples, and a gallon of milk and I put them on a paper bag. Who would say money means nothing now. I can go without paying because the owner can´t use it anymore. I go out feeling guilty of being alive. Such an irony!
The doctors gave me a year, and everyone else has gone before me. I walk carefully not to step on the past and as I try to pass I stop infront of a pregnant woman holding an unknown infant. I can´t stand the sight. It can´t be your face marked by this night, by asphyxia. In fear I see you again: your eyes lost, without expressing anger, passion or joy, just lost.
I don´t know how long I was there sitting on the scorching pavement holding your cold hand, sobbing, holding on to you. Not you! You are life, hope, in your womb lived the only future I had left. I take off the oxygen, anyway the moment will come soon. The last tree destroyed and the earth like this, for what to live without you? My throat starts to close, I start to cough endlessly, air is not reaching my lungs because there isn´t any oxygen left, I cling to your hand, and everything becomes blurry quickly....

Eipar a creature with no land.

2007-09-24T21:04:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time in the midsts of a silent place two cells got together to form a little creature. It grew where darkness reigned, but it was not happy, even though it could hear a sweet voice calling to it from time to time. Eipar was always alone, it felt the urging need for more, and one day it decided to push it´s way out into the world. There it was, it was all light, and sound and movement. Eipar seemed so small and lost among all this new things, but there she was, the sweet voice was there, she had a face with green eyes and a pale skin she was holding Eipar and with tender movements she fed it.
For the first time Eipar saw it´s hands, they were tiny, limited while in the darkness they seemed endless. They felt all the textures around. Somethings were soft, some rough, some cold, some were warm, and he found all this new sensations fascinating.
Time passed and Eipar grew and became aware of all that was around. Music and color were his favorite things. It loved the wind on its face, the calm pace of the waves in a quiet afternoon, the rumble of the thunder, the silence of an empty street and the rambunctious sounds of toddlers. But Eipar longed for more. It felt somehow, somewhere there was a North and South, and in between there should be someone for it, only meant for Eipar and no one else.
Though it became very wise very soon Eipar had many broken hearts. It felt lonely. No one in the world knew what Eipar was and what it dreamed of, yet it kept on dreaming with an encounter that would change it´s life, and give some sense to it all.
And the meeting came, true love crashed Eipar like a train, but the wake was just as wonderful as those first moments in the world, like being born again. Love took Eipar to a million different places, it dreamt of long voyages and it got them, of all sorts, to wonderful places where it made friends, and others where it was not so easy to make friends. Eipar though inloved felt alone. Somehow love by itself was not enough. And Eipar lived searching for that peace that never came. At times love would make this strong desire to be more quiet, others it would battle it´s way through, but Eipar would live it´s whole life wondering "Why am I here?" "Where is eternal peace?" longing for that water that could quench it´s thirst of "Forever".