Samarkanda

Desde el lapislázuli aliento
del tiempo instanciado
y del eco
de las carcajadas frías,
oye el infante el galope sanguíneo.
Tierra inextensa de soles
y de caireles que se tienden
como espejos,
espejos que transmutan los ojos
en vapor
y en sueños de libélula.
Un arcaico pensamiento atraviesa
como daga
la carne blanda del momento:
de ese momento ígneo
y húmedo a la vez,
estandarte de rostros pasados
y de futuros vientres prominentes.
Sacrilegio en tu piel,
territorio de belicosas sacudidas
y de amables cosechas de Marzo.
Mecen las manos del aire
aquellas macizas espigas,
erectas,
bailarinas en estoica pose.
El huevo dorado se rompe,
y emerge
nuevo y eterno
el universo y sus astillas flotantes:
brillo en un grano de arena.
Crisol de sensaciones y motivos,
encrucijada de instantes:
tú la Samarkanda de mis horas.

Playing cold

You might be a big fish in a little poem.
You may stay in silence surfing on a cloud.
You must paint the forest with both of your eyes.
You could keep this bottle inside of my heart.

You should taste the sunshine by the lonely beach.
You should smell these flowers and fly like a bee.
You should sing our anthem from a crystal boat.
You should bless my forehead with a burning kiss.

You can be a lot of things. You can live a bunch of lives, on and on, one after another: you can travel by my side using one of these, sweet and tender, like an evanescent dream, like the humble seed hidden in the fruit. But at the moment, I am far away from you. I am just playing cold today.

Surrender

Behind those dunes, your shoulders,
and your little bare feet on the bed,
I stand.
Soliloqium of ten thousand voices.
Dead-weight of a soft slumber.

All the broken compromises
and our non-sense discussions
I forgot.
Hard fist through the walls of paper.
White kiss in the mourning shadow.

One glowing-and-swimming consciousness
is making me bigger and louder
than I used to be back in the winter:
there is no time for simple hesitations here.

I am just waiting for some substance, some glee,
something bright, something fresh.
I walked slowly, down, the alleyways in silence
whispering our names like a harmless bullet.

This couch is so wide for me only
and the garden outside
is too green for my eyes:
"To Realize" as the harshest part of the game.

If I always rescue you from the blue flames,
do you will feel the same when I am gone?
Jumping among a line of black trees,
always turning branches into snakes.

Like a scumbag locked in this room
I rule now the whole world and the universe.
You were also ruled my system once upon a time,
when the golden butterflies emigrated to the south... remember?

Did I ever saw your arms in danger? Did I?
Would you ever will be my torch, my lamp for one night only?
Will I ever start to slide my fingers
into the sinuous roads of your legs?

Your reflex stand still by the clean window.
I am just humblely catching flies in the market:
that is why I am not going to get anywhere around,
unless I was breath… unless I was air.

In the hardest and helpless conditions,
between the thickest and heaviest dark fog
I remain.
An old ship that gets lost in the distance.
A roaring soul seeking for the damned grail.

Every time you call me,
anything you want to say
I listen to it.
A fortunate wanderer came to the beach.
The neverending story of the beginning of love.