(An English translation,done by myself,of my original Spanish poem:"Y los pájaros,como siempre,son libres")
And it was your voice.
It was the that cantilene, it was the dim monodia your voice wrapped in the scent of the last rose of that endless winter.
An anguishedl melopea that now melts into this glaucous ocean that your eyes have finally become.
It hurts. (But you love me) .It hurts.Yes..With no mercy.Without any possible forgiveness..Mi obscure voice looks for your own in a desperate cry.
It hurts!
Oh, if there is a God in Heaven, quietly tell Him to stop me now!
Let me kill this murderous desire that drives me to keep going, even if it hurts!
It isn't me!
Not me !!
They are.. the birds, those eternally flying ones,extremely free; those who dwell in your voice and give birth and let be slain this infinite pain that goes from my body to yours, merciless, relentless , definitive
Those birds hum the melody ,calling my name, adding the most terrible adjectives: "The conspicuous main knight is an infamous bastard".
And they are right ...Do you know? They are right!
While I affront your innocence,with no poniards, they can say it, again and again...because they , the birds,just THOSE birds,like you(as always) are free.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
ET DIMITTE NOBIS DEBITA NOSTRA
PoetryNUEVA Y BELLÍSIMA PORTADA: GENTILEZA DE LA SEÑORITA @NEBHEYS He decido publicar todos mis poemas y pequeños trozos de prosa poética en un solo volumen,en una Antología. El título es el original en latín de la antigua fórmula del Paternoster (Padren...
