My hope is torn apart by your absence.
Trying to keep you in my memories,
The hours of waiting bleed.
The nights prolong your silence.
...
How not to love you, love, how not to love you!
If with your kisses you molded me.
If in order that I loved you, you wrenched
The most beautiful piece of your soul
...
Deny yourself the right to dream.
Kill any trace of hope.
Let your look color everything in black and fatalism.
Never believe in your strengths.
...
The illusion of an angel
Taking care of my teps, is born.
The belief that you will be there
...
As wild little animals
The words got frightened:
Before your dreamed presence
Inflamed the landscape.
...
Nothing is impossible in love,
Only to forget what is forbidden us.
How to ignore the call of love
If the meeting cries from the soul?
...
Nature delivered me a beautiful gift:
The lawn, covered in a snowy cloak,
Adorns with little clouds the tree
Without leaves, so sadly left behind.
...
When the problems, the pessimism, the unwillingness,
or the bad humor try to suffocate me
...
I refuse to die – to be an oblivion.
I am addicted to the affection:
...
Sheltered in a dream of love
the vision of the body of his dear
provides him with superhuman force.
...
I want to thank Mark Leonard Melcher, who took my poems carlingly and traslated them brautifully. I also want to thank my daughter for helping me to traslate my poems and Rhemasonador for reading my poetry so much feeling. You can listen my poems recited in english by Rhemasonador at http: //www.acidplanet.com/artist.asp? songs=375185)
Missing You
My hope is torn apart by your absence.
Trying to keep you in my memories,
The hours of waiting bleed.
The nights prolong your silence.
The sea is only an entity of salty water,
Pawned to lacerate my wounds.
There is no sun, no moonlight, no lightning
Only shadows that harass me senseless.
But the wind of night riding
gives me the sounds of your laughter:
Again, I hear your breathing close to me.
The sleepy oblivion is an eternal agony.
I feel like taking my clothes off in your presence, leaving my coverings as tributes on rocks. I waste myself in longitude and a latitude which will never know our lascitude, the rocky shore of our encounter in a dreamworld of poetry. I connect to you as many who pale to your feeling, your sincere rapture which accompanies the depth of poetry. To you I erect a sycophancy of all poetry which should be written in a downpoour of rain and lightening. I only hope that someday we shall meet.