To Sing the Same Old Song (Volver a la Misma Cancion)

To sing the same old song
under the vast blanket
of the night sky
to the tune of my mandolin

would be as if climbing
the steep mountains;
and the peak loses its majesty
for having been conquered.

My mandolin dreams
as it cries out my humming;
wishing for the proper wind

to call you, to tell you
that here I am
singing the same old song.

Feliz III (Mi Ultimo Rima A Mi Feliz)

The wind passed
and it turned
to look at me.
It wrapped its gown
around my face,
and it whispered to me:
"Come with me."

I followed its trail
eastward - the sun
setting behind me
as my shadow steps forward.

To Diotima III (Lady Starlight)

The moon peeps through
my trembling window.
Your eyes peeped through
my soul.

Streetlamps were made
out of man's fear
of the darkness
that enveloped the world.

But I am not afraid.
Lady starlight, twinkle once more.
With you, I'm not afraid.

The moon peeps through
my trembling window.
Your eyes peeped through my soul.

Lament of Cupid’s Arrow

When will I find
someone for myself?
You, seraph with feathered wings,
put me against your bowstring
to cross bridges.

When will I find
someone for myself?
When will she realize
that had I not hit her,
she wouldn’t love him?

Memoirs

“Loving is so short and forgetting is so long.”
- Pablo Neruda

Where are you?
My mind seeks you
but my body,
this wretched frame –
a net of nerves, lose
the courage it needs.

You are present and true
only to my mind.
I can feel that you exist
without having my body
touch or taste you.
You, who will forever elude me.

The Breeze Brings to Me

What is it that rustles so,
so far away?
Is it you, Love?
Your footsteps that trail
the blades of grass?

Is it you, Love?
Your feathered arms that cut
and separate air?
And you clash amidst branches,
your wings between twigs.

The breeze brings to me
these sounds I hear.
I sit and wait for what it is.
It never comes – I then ask:

“What is it that rustles so,
so far away?”

Silhouette (Silueta)

Hope, you are
a silhouette
of what I will be.
And I see you
when my muscles
are numb.

Death

In a valley
where wind chooses
not to pass,
a stone will sprout
but will not grow.
It calls me
with its silenced mouth.