Desde la barranca / From de canyon

La ví bañándose
del otro lado del río
desde la barranca
que está antes de la iglesia.

Miré como el frío
estremecía su piel,
y sentí que era yo el viento
que a diario la tocaba.

¿Quien iba a creer
que miraría a este niño?

Yo tenía doce
y ella veinticinco.

¿Quien iba creer
que pudiera amarme?

Si yo era tan pobre
y era tan cobarde,
que no pude hablarle…

Y quedé en silencio
detrás de otro roble
mientras la miraba
del pueblo alejarse.

I saw her bathing
across the river
from the canyon
which is before the church.

I watched, as the cold
her skin shivered,
and I felt that I was the wind
who touched her every day.

Who would believe
that she would look at this child?

I was twelve
and she twenty-five.

Who would believe
that she could love me?

If I was so poor
and so I was such a coward,
that I couldn't talk to her...

And I was silent
behind another oak,
looking at her
while she was going away
from the town .

Poesía y fotografía de mi autoría
La fotografía la tomé con mi smartphone

@saulos