I AM THE TREE AND ITS SHADOW
I am the tree and its shadow
living and breathing,
the tucking bird with its wings
the captive buds of the rose
and its silences,
the light dew in the morning
the nakedness of the sky
and dye it with whiteness
the chimeras of dreams,
the wet laughter
of fish and children,
the rain that washes away, in murky cries,
the steely shadows of love
and their mirrors,
the time that, when he died,
transcends verse and flesh,
perhaps also, a man.
TODAY I WANT TO TALK
I want to talk today,
man to man,
with that one
that inhabits my veins
and it’s my meeting
with that one
that silences the gaze
when I look
and in my skin, defenseless,
made a home.
And when I hear,
how, with a slight step,
it’s coming to me,
I would like to answer you
in a hurry,
more blind,
in a light
so sweet and pure,
I can’t see
bliss
that proclaims.
TUCKED AWAY IN THE TWILIGHT OF TIME
Tucked away in the twilight of time,
in the lights, early morning escapes
and the smell that escapes the loneliness
and the orange trees,
like a dog, tired, barking at the moon.
A sterile rumor grows on his lips
as they walk, aged, the days
and the fresh, wooded grass withers
that in the forgotten youth sprouted in his chest.
But the heart resists, it takes time to breathe.
And still wounded, that man, he looks up,
with fatigue, upwards.
I DON’T KNOW
I don’t know,
maybe it’s time
to pluck that blind man out of his eyes
the everyday way we go through the days,
to turn on the words that give light
to the sad house that from the cradle we inhabit
and unwind, barefoot, the ancient landscapes
that memory drags from one life to another.
I don’t know,
maybe it’s time
that the white doves
entwine our hearts in their wings,
and from such high beacons and such high transparencies,
to be the light that shakes, the vivid dreams of death.
LIFE LIVES ON IN OUR FRONTS
Life lives on in our fronts
how deception survives
in the clumsy shadows
that simulate death.
So, I breathe in the sunshine with joy,
the flower of the day.
The light does not cease,
nor does the dawn that sustains it cease,
the eyes cease, if they refuse to host
the bliss of the birds,
innocence,
the lukewarm heartbeat with which the spirit floods
of love, the flesh.
I WANT YOU TO KNOW
I want you to know that,
you stopped being light
to be earth, shadow,
flesh in the arms of death,
but don’t worry, buddy,
in the brambles of the heart
survives, the immutable rose
that will light up the night in your eyes.
