El aleteo de la vida - The fluttering of life - Bilingûal poetry
aunque el frío queme,
aunque el miedo muerda,
aunque el sol se esconda y se calle el viento,
aún hay fuego en tu alma,
aún hay vida en tus sueños.” "
El aleteo de la vida
abro y cierro los párpados
ante el sol humano que abanica flores
casi blancas.
La eternidad tan lenta
con sus horas de nieve
congelan el vuelo donde coquetean
mis anhelos.
Un dios ciego me escribió en el aire,
por eso sólo soy trazos de colores invernales.
quien mueve la mano bajo la luz
sabe que es tinta suya cada letra, cada tomo.
Sin olvidar las nubes donde vagan duendes
con milagrosos y errantes contrastes y suaves tonos
De la voz verde al silencio blanco
viaja algo más que música en nubes rosadas,
magia que sobrepasa el canto,
un signo misterioso.
a los colores que ella opone a la muerte
y a la poción que insufla en nuestras venas
para que nadie advierta nunca
que aquí mismo nos trajo hace ya tiempo
en el aletear de mariposas de sueños.
Hay un dios dormido en nosotros,
la vida espera que soñemos.
even if the cold burns,
even if fear bites,
even if the sun goes down and the wind is silent,
there's still fire in your soul,
there's still life in your dreams."
The fluttering of life
I open and close the eyelids
in front of the human sun
that fans almost white flowers.
The eternity so slow with its hours of snow,
I think it froze the flight where my cravings flirt.
I was written in the air by a blind god,
That's why I'm just a winter color trail.
who moves the hand under the light
knows that it's his ink every letter, every volume.
Without forgetting the clouds
where the goblins wander with miraculous
and errant contrasts soft tones.
From green voice to white silence
travels in pink clouds,
more than just music,
magic that surpasses singing,
a mysterious sign.
colors who opposes death
and the potion that insufflate our veins
so that no one will notice
that brought us here a long time ago,
in the fluttering of the butterflies
of dreams.
There is a god asleep in us,
life waits for us to dream.
03/01/2019
Photo by Ray Hennessy on Unsplash.
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STOPThis post is a mixture of the poet and the artist in you.
The photo, with its washed out pale colours is just right for the poems. The verse from Mario Benedetti is beautiful and I love that you chose it without thought or fear of your poem being compared to it - for the two are just different pieces of a picture, yet each true to itself.
I am amazed that you are able to write so often...