Raquel Angel Nagler Poems

My years grew old.
All I can carry are small sounds:
The tiny bird voices dallying in the air,
A corner of the day looking for my silence,
...

Happiness: the play of life
I saw you in the market of happiness.
I said: I want to sell my weekdays.
My 'could', my 'should', my 'would'.
...

You sat in the market of weekdays.
You said: I am the peace-seller.
Buy the 'here' with the coins of your 'where? '
The 'now' with the coins of your 'where'.
...

My years grew old.
The distances, they ask nothing, they want nothing.
In the silence I hear white whispers:
The breath of a little 'always',
...

He said:
In my age there is so much time for thinking.
Little by little you realize
The deep sadness of the love of life.
...

The quiet in your voyaging eyes.
Some nights when you sleep face up
So that your dreams won't lose their lightness
I see them flutter
...

I filled my hands with mist.
I closed and opened them.
You murmured:
The life on your palm,
...

When my eyelids flutter
Like a sail detached in a storm of dreams
It's not that I want to fly. No.
I only look for the force of lightness,
...

Your tears were broken mirrors. Hard, solid.
I touched your face with quiet fingers.
It was as if the water turned into liquid.
You murmured:
...

You say: today the sea is an autumnal hour.
It's solitude.
No, I whisper.
It is the hour when it bends down
...