Again, the original poem was in Spanish, so I did my best at translating:
Muerte de un escritor:
Con flores de lágrimas
Decoras la fría piedra.
Y con dulces palabras
Riegas la memoria olvidada.
Y los puros silencios
De nuestra añoranza
Llenan el corazón roto
Con estúpidas esperanzas.
Y te veo llorar
Con lágrimas de dolor
Y fuego.
Y te veo cantar
Con voz de color
Y hielo.
Y te pido que olvides
Las tardes y mañanas.
Y te pido que dejes
Mi tumba olvidada.
Death of a writer:
With flowers of tears
You paint the cold stone.
And with bittersweet words
You water the lost memory.
And the purest silences
Of our deadly longing
Fill the broken heart
With stupid hopes.
And I see you cry
With tears of pain
And Fire.
And I see you sing
With a voice of color
And Ice.
And I beg you to forget
Evenings and mornings.
And I beg you to leave
My forgotten tomb.
September 29th '22
YOU ARE READING
The Lost Dreams of a Broken Poet
Short StoryA collection of poems and short stories I write when I'm bored. Most of the themes are sad, so I hope that, in a hundred years when I'm long dead, students read them as part of their Literature lessons. XD ⚠Major character death in some stories⚠
