the walls listen to the sounds of
spanish guitar
strings playing the
recuerdos de la Alhambra
silence stills itself
on this windless noon
the fan did not move and the
wooden chair is stifled
if it has hands it would have
clapped and it if has the mouth
it would have said
'sublime! '
the carpet that keeps
the pin
does not have wings
it transcended the feet
a revered existence
lofty, splendiferous.
i felt something
diving
penetrating my
emptiness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem