Saturday, October 14, 2006

Hizo sueño

¿A que sabe el sueño?
Cómplice del tiempo,
y efigie de la abstracción
de mi conciencia también.

Anclo un instante,
pero soy conciente
que ellos siguen
y el espacio continua.

Y la fantasía no se detiene;
entonces me quedé dormido,
en un barco que si es real...
pero yo no conozco lo real.

Aparentar otro roble,
hablar con el almidón,
que me escucha sórdido
pero acostumbrado.

Y mi soledad ya vuela
sobre el mar.

Porque ya estuve ahí,
y volveré a estar,
desnudo frente
al verdadero compañero,
quebracho y ceibo,
rindo voces en el amarillo,
que es nuestro océano.

Y me contesta;
ofrece los clavos de la historia,
como un secreto que
esta eternidad esconde.

Ya va a llegar ese momento
que no es tiempo ni historia.
Donde pasan años
que no se cuentan.
Días que no pasan,
y solo se turnan,
de esta noche
que me resguarda
de aquel fantasma
que no voy a encontrar.

He visto alfombras
desafiando a los horizontes
que desatan sus cadenas
por orden de mis amazonas.

Y ella no se viste
de cenizas
no tiene miedo,
y el lenguaje es esto.

Pa' vos, ale, aunque esté crudísimo.

Monday, October 02, 2006

Dialog between autumn’s supporter and ego.

I stared still, motionless, to what seemed to me the reason of that instant, and reflect of the whole. It would distress my lack of expectative and encourage a particular dance, while looking for somewhere to rest and spreading simple ornaments to the air. So simply, that with non-seen-before accuracy would also steal my falls of water and reveal my weakness; everyone’s. Because those simple times of life influence one’s future, and completed with enough abstraction, they can either talk to you.
‘They are fakers.’ It was scolding me; breathtaking chapter of today. There were no moods and weather, and everything I’ve learned was over for a while.
'Us' My obstinated gaiety again. 'Just little figures playing with October fallen leaves, testing time’s confidence and floating over this hold back, which seems to be the impressionism itself, mirror of oaks and autumn, and its static scene, because we –they-, have no fear or even embarrassment, and are keen on challenging fate’s balance and faith. And I have tried. I have met with the same wall several times. The one which protects these weeds of human nature as an invisible dome or so I had heard, that limits liberty and breeds my howls.' It continued dancing.
‘Too much poetry’ Surprise. I obtained an answer. ‘Fall and rest and you may be completed; and complains will come to an end, ‘cause you can’t pretend Earth: Build your own like us, as your partners are not part of it.’ Its act came to the end and died. Or rest. And so I will: be fragment of trees. I’m not afraid anymore.
Pa' vos: K.D.C.