POEMS

                                                                           HR / EN / AR

INTENT

I wake up early;

to look through the grate

into the dark morning.

Perhaps I will be able to bend the iron,

thread my body through the narrow opening,

fly.

Out there an obstacle awaits me,

 that I cannot nor wish to evade:

a man composed of conviction and spite.

He stands there like a reaper

with a moribund amorous smile

on his face of a masked reprobate impenitent,

driven by yearning

which he cannot escape.

I come to dissuade them,

by myself, from myself;

those two inseparable,

compulsive friends.

 

VIGILS

Let everything be brief,

arrivals and departures,

parades, speeches, carnival charades…

Only let the prophets’ vigils last

next to your narrow little white bed

covered with a porous sheet

surrounded by tin bells,

which supposedly protect you from the onrush of silence,

excessive emptiness,

and where above the console table, your eyes,

pinned with tacks on the cork board,

like the one on which stands the punctured

picture of your dog,

in the neglected house of crumpled paper,

renounce what is dearest,

forever, unquestioningly.

 

LOVE

(For my mother)

I will think of you,

your face from a Renaissance canvas,

your melancholy eyes,

staring into the distance,

at the instant

of a skillful hand’s stroke

masterfully applying

warm oil with a small paint brush,

spreading blueness with its fingers,

the lace of your anxiety

pressing submissively, ecstatically

before the goddess,

… when I will be leaving.

Never were you more beautiful

and you are even more beautiful in the time

that is yet to come,

the time in which no one yet knows you,

the gentleness of your soul

trained through the wind,

harmed by nothing,

knowing how to resist even the terrible storm,

whilst my loyalty follows you from a distance.

 

AT DAWN

And the last guests have gone,

only the animal remains,

in the middle of the pavement,

growling and yelping,

and a sour grin

dribbles from its mouth.

Under my window,

it is a human, a minstrel

on whose account, I sacrifice my sleep

in a May dawning.

While I am still

awake in its thoughts

and calm as an owl,

it grows silent and becomes quieter

from the redness of the dawn

in our eyes.

 

WITHOUT BREATHING

 
I untie the tired snake line from the rock,

raise the anchor, I pull away.

I sail all alone.

Nowhere a despot or slave.

Machines breathe for me

when I forget to.

The outside world, immersed in itself,

can no longer summon me,

hidden in its split shell.

One day lost, another gifted,

but only one.

I depart from no one;

I arrive from nowhere:

I will see myself off,

greet myself,

launch into the sea.

In the quivering, red-hot boat

coated in a mantle plume

and broken pine needles,

I shall discover my calming poison;

picking my own wound

healing it, without breathing.

 

HARMLESSNESS

 
All IS HARMLESS,

SURRENDERED TO

REPRESSIVE TRANQUILITY.

PERHAPS BECAUSE

OF THE INNOCUOUSNESS,

GOOD INTENTIONS,

POINTLESS HOPING. 

RESIGNED PRACTICALLY TO DEATH,

FLEETING AND FIERCE

LIKE A PINCH OF HOT WHISKEY

POURED DOWN THE THROAT

BY THE FORCE

OF HEEDFULLY FORETOLD CONFLICTS. 

THE COVER OF EXPERIENCES

OF LONG AGO IS ABOVE US,

AND IT’S HERE TO PROTECT US,

FROM THE PRESENT SUPPOSEDLY.

 

 

 A LEAP FORWARD

 

 I LEAPED ABOVE THE DAY

LIKE OVER A  BARBED WIRE FENCE. 

FEARING INJURY,

HAPPY THAT I WILL FIND MYSELF

ON THE SIDE WHERE,

I REFLECT,

THERE’S ROOM FOR YET ANOTHER EXHAUSTING DASH

IN SPITE OF THE CLEAR MENACE

OF THE NEXT BARRIER:

PERHAPS THE BUSHES

WITH THEIR DAUNTING THORNS

OF FAIRY-TALES,

OR THE UNBROKEN LINES

OUTSTRETCHED PARALLEL WITH THE SKY GUIDING GENTLY

TO THE GRACEFULLY LONELY,

FLEETING SUNSET.

 

WITHOUT FORGIVENESS

 
LIKE A RUNAWAY INMATE A CAMP,

A MAD HOUSE, A PRISON,

I GRASP FOR THE BURDEN

OF MY HUNGER AND FEARS;

ABANDONING MY VOW OF CAUTION,

LEANING TOWARDS

THE PROMISES OF THE HEART,

SMACKING THE DELIBERATIONS,

THE TENACIOUSNES OF VALUES,

HORRORS, LOYALTY.

FROM THE PERSPECTIVE OF THE OPENINGS BETWEEN THE BARS

NOT A SINGLE MORSEL IS SO LARGE

THAT IT COULD BE REPLACED,

OVERCOME,

CRUSHED WITH SHAMELESS SUPPRESSION FROM WITHIN.

FOR ME THERE IS NO EQUINOX

OF FORGIVENESS.