They are like food for the soul. So, we were talking about soulmates, loneliness, fear…This week I want you to share your favorite poem. It can be in your language. I’m going to share my favorite poem, one of them of course. And you’re always welcome to return to this blog and share another poem. But if you have to single out one poem, what would it be?
I suggest you to post in English/Portugues/Françai/Espanol. But you can also post in your mother tongue. In this case, it will take more time to be moderated, because we need to translate to avoid spam.
Please feel free to put your favorite poem and share with other readers. I selected one Greek (in English) and one in Portugues. They are in the post # 1
Thank you!
Paulo
UPDATE: I am surprised with the quantity/quality of posts. Today I suggested a good friend in HP Printer Division consider publishing around 200 poems that are pubic domain. An anthology by popular vote! He is considering
***
Я не вписываюсь в то, что мне близко
И не соответствую тем, кто мне дорог.
Мой путь это тысяча дорог
По большому кругу
Позволь мне проснуться, похоже, что я задремал.
Я заснул и попал туда, откуда не возвращаются
Мне Мона Лиза показала свой правдивый оскал.
Я заплакал, но вышло слишком похоже на смех.
Я пел песни Ваджрасаттвы, но счастья что-то нет до сих пор
Я стрелял в упор, о да, я стрелял в упор!
Только как ни стрелял, пуля застревала в стволе.
О, дайте мне ниток моток, да отравы глоток -
Я попробую вышить себе новую жизнь, а из старой уйти как змея.
Но мне нужна поддержка на этом пути, где Ты Девушка, Что Любит(ишь), Смеясь? (c) Darias
Послание……… Другу.
Когда ты захочешь плакать,
Позови меня…
Я не обещаю тебя рассмешить,
Но я могу поплакать вместе с тобой
Если однажды ты захочешь сбежать.
Позови меня…
Я не обещаю уговорить тебя остаться…
Но я могу сбежать с тобой
Если однажды ты не захочешь вообще кого-либо слышать
Позови меня…
Я обещаю придти ради тебя.
И обещаю вести себя тихо
Но если однажды ты позовешь… А я не откликнусь
Пожалуйста, поспеши ко мне! Вероятно в этот момент я в тебе
очень и очень нуждаюсь
Не иди впереди меня – я могу и не пойти за тобой.
Не иди позади меня – я могу и не повести тебя,
Но иди рядом со мной. И будь моим другом… (с) Eddie Mashkovich (это ник)
Tiziano Ferro – La Tua Vita Non Passera
Tiziano Ferro – Scivoli Di Nuovo
Tiziano Ferro – Il Regalo Pio Grande
Querido Paulo, este poema tocou-me o coração e partilho-o aqui contigo e com quem quiser.
Noites:
Há noites brancas
que ficam na memória
contem olhares
que se perderam
em recantos distantes
de almas milenares.
Outras porém,
apenas transportam
a paz de uma neve
feita por diamantes.
Certas noites
o que parecia confuso
torna-se numa certeza absoluta
e noutras,
as certezas voam
e fogem de mãos dadas
com sonhos que se julgaram verdade.
Podemos passar noites
vagueando por entre universos
que outrora foram realidade
e que algum dia
voltarão a ser o nosso lar.
Assim também passamos
em claro e sem rumo
perdidos nesse escuro
que também atormenta a alma.
Se há noites
que levar-te comigo
é a minha canção de embalar
e o meu coração dorme feliz,
há outras então
que doem no corpo
e o fogo da memoria
deixa cicatrizes
difíceis de dissimular.
Noites que,
como a música
podem durar séculos
em deixar de se tocar,
e outras não são mais
que uma estrela cadente
e assim como vieram, foram,
num brilho que se perdeu
sem poder ser recuperado
num mar muito distante.
Há noites que pesam
e outras que são belas
e depois a noite
é sempre única
na sua enorme variedade.
Uma noite que se divide
em tantas como almas há no mundo,
uma noite que se agora parece
apenas escuridão
é porque alguém virou as costas
aos seus segredos.
Por Iar Mendelsohn
I was in the tramway this morning, a man approach me with a newspaper from the people withouth shelters,
as I was saying, a man approached me with the newspaper about people without shelters, I only had 1 Euro change,and told him to keep it, a young man who was sitting on the other side of the tram gave him 2 Euros and told the man to give the newspaper to me.
There were some beautiful poems, I chose that one to share it with you.
Rebirth
Like spark
Words draw
Through the pen and ink
THese confidences
In total inertia
Deep down inside of you.
To each man its fate,
To each man its luck,
To each man its pain
To each man its dream
On the tapestry of life.
What is success?
A beautiful house,
A beautiful car,
Lots of money?
Being the first…?
Whether it is the Summer
Or the Autumn of your life
Don’t look back
Follow your instinct
Through the essence of your soul
Pursue this fragrance
So subtle and so fragile
On the veil of emotions.
Time goes too fast.
However these confidences
Are a renaissance
For winds are changing.
Then feelings
Intertwine with the dreams.
Between shadows and lights
The essential and the important
Savour every instant
With a different look
Full of delicacy
On the road towards wisdom
To still believe!
Nicole Damiens
Thank you Nicole and thank you to the stranger.
This is the poem I wrote,it’s in Indonesian..
Aku memilih pergi,
Justru karena aku cinta mati.
Menyayangimu dari jauh menjadi terlalu perih.
Aku percaya pada rasa di hati,
Hanya aku tak cukup percaya diri.
Aku tau kamu dikelilingi oleh yang lebih.
Aku tak berani lagi menanti
Akhir bahagia yang tak pasti,
Hatiku tak sanggup lagi merintih.
Biarlah aku berlari sendiri,
Menata duka dan peluk sunyi.
Hingga aku bisa berdamai dengan sedih.
Je n’avais qu’un Euro ce matin dans ma poche >Un homme m’a approche avec le journal “Sans Abri” qui coutait 2 Euros. Je lui ai dit qu’il garde l’argent. Un jeune homme assis de l’autre cote du tram a donne les deux Euros et a fait signe a l’homme qu’il me le donne.
Il y avait de beaux poemes dans cette edition.
J’ai choisi celui la pour le partager avec vous.
Renaissance
Comme une etincelle
Les mots puisent
A l’encre de ta plume
Ces confidences
En totale inertie
Au fond de toi.
Chacun son destin
Chacun sa chance
Chacun ses galeres
Chacun ses chimeres
Sur la toile de l’existence.
Qu’est ce que la reussite?
Une belle maison,
Une belle voiture,
Beaucoup d’argent?
Etre le premier…?
Que ce soit l’ete
Ou l’automne de ta vie
Ne te detourne pas
Suis ton instinct
A l’essence de ton ame,
Recherche cette fragrance
Si subtile si fragile
Sur le voile des emotions.
Le temps passe trop vite
Mais ces confidences
Sont une renaissance
Car changent les vents.
Alors les sentiments
S’entrecroisent avec les reves.
Entre ombres et lumieres
L’essentiel et l’importance
Savourent chaque instant
Avec un autre regard
Plein de delicatesse
Sur le chemin de la sagesse
Pour croire encore!
Nicole Damiens
Merci Nicole, merci a l’etranger.
One of my favoyrite poems is The Ballad of Reading Gaol by Oscar Wilde, I won’t repeat it here as I am sure everyone has heard of it. Instead, as soul mates seems to be a grat topic i would like to include a poem that I wrote in reference to my soul mate.
Loves Embrace
By N.Smart
On the day that she first came
My heart burnt like a fires flame
Never again to be the same
She touched me deep inside.
With the beauty of an angels heart
A guiding spirit, set apart
Like no other from the start
My love I could not hide.
The depth and beauty of her eyes
A smile that had me mesmerized
Sent my soul into the skies
A winged soul of the light.
The energy that flowed from her
Gave my fallen heart a stir
And made it feel as if it were
A light that shone so bright.
She came as if she held the key
That turned the lock inside of me
And set my heart running free
A heart once drowned in pain.
And as my ears beheld her voice
My soul and spirit did rejoice
For I knew her heart was my hearts choice
A choice that was so plain.
From that day our friendship grew
And in my heart I surely knew
That our souls were one not two
Soul mates sent to earth
Two souls joined to form one core
Together they would learn to soar
And then again forever more
Return unto their birth.
But then there came the day
That she left and went away
Yet I hoped that come what may
She would return to me
And as the days and nights went by
My heart once more began to cry
But to love you must say goodbye
And set your true love free
Then if their love is also true
They will again return to you
That is one thing that I knew
And so I had to wait
In time she did return to me
And my heart was full of glee
Surely led by my plea
To the guiding hand of fate
Love came to me on that night
As swiftly as an angels flight
Feelings known that must be right
Love bloomed in my heart
They lingered long into my dreams
As soft and pure as pale moonbeams
And woke with me so it seems
A brand new day, a brand new start
And on and on my love has grown
Since that day the seeds were sewn
As if nothing else were known
It was always meant to be
There’s no doubt in my heart
From her I never want to part
Our souls journey can finally start
As one eternally.
HI! I wrote this, the last week, hope you like it:
Piensa en mí
Piensa en mí
Para dormir tus miedos,
Cuando las hojas se tornen doradas y lluevan en tu suelo,
Si cubren el camino y ocultan la vía,
Búscame en tu pensamiento,
Yo seré luz y guía.
Si la tormenta llegara de pronto
Robando tu paz
Aférrate a mis brazos
Seré yo, tu serenidad.
Cuando la niebla cubra el horizonte
Opacando la esperanza de un amanecer mañana;
Búscame en la orilla del tiempo
Esperaré contigo en medio de la fría plata.
Si tu alma está cansada
Y buscas un resguardo,
Ven y recuéstate a mi lado
Seré yo el guardián de tu sueño,
seré tu amor eterno…
Ethics of Reverence for Life I – VI
I. Ethics of Life
“I am Life with the Will-to-live
amidst of life with the Will-to-live.”
From this grows consciousness,
respect towards Creation,
responsibility in humbleness
above all expectation.
Ethics of Life itself
gives a playful helping hand
for ethics of right action.
Thus the secret and richness
of a thoughtful and dedicated mind
fulfills through healing and protection.
“I am Life with the Will-to-live
amidst of life with the Will-to-live.”
II. Wave in the Ocean
Like the wave can not be for itself
but continuously has part in the waving ocean’s sound,
I shall not live my life for myself
but in the occurrence that happens around.
Extra-ordinary dedication of Life to Life
I have to permit, to perform, sacrifice.
Thus in the ocean I will be bound
Co-weaving, creating harmonious sound.
Life singing life within Life.
III. Highest Instance in us
Abstraction – the death of ethics,
Ethics – the living relation to living life.
But the greatest enemy – dullness.
The best friend – responsibility.
And the highest instance
is the reverence for Life itself.
IV. Reverence for Life
Ethics of reverence for life
knows no difference between
higher and lower, worthy and less worthy.
Humanity just stands at the beginning
to see so called primitives as human,
to see physically or mentally disabled as worth living,
to see the Black Man as one of their kind.
What a selected subjective measure.
Who sees the same life in the mosquito
that’s weaving through himself?
Why can we say we couldn’t even kill a fly
when with the same breath we speak
untruthful to our neighbor and kill the truth?
Reverence for life has no measure
and no limitation.
V. Who finds
Not through concentration, cogitation, meditation
will the Great Mystery be found
which keeps floating above the world and our life.
But through doing and effecting.
See, for the highest insight there’s no difference
between the wise man and the simpleminded.
But to the simpleminded will reveal
- what keeps hidden for the wise -
when he has an effect by doing, working, weaving.
VI. Wisdom
Collecting, treasuring,
knowledge of facts,
heavy load like a burden.
Kept online to be ready,
to be unpacked, any time.
Often the inappropriate.
Wisdom, awareness of mind,
love of the heart
for life within and around.
Wisdom, inner being
grows out of the mid
when it is needed there out.
Then sinks back into the unformed.
Nothing to carry, to keep,
nothing to hold as a weight.
Just awareness.
And readiness to serve life.
Wisdom is, and is not.
Living love, in deliberate action.
Written in reverence for the life and work of Albert Schweitzer
My favourite poem by Bill Manhire, 1970 titled “Malady”
Malady
Melody
Malady
Melody
Malady
Melody
Mylady
Mignonne, allons voir si la rose
A Cassandre
Mignonne, allons voir si la rose
Qui ce matin avoit desclose
Sa robe de pourpre au Soleil,
A point perdu ceste vesprée
Les plis de sa robe pourprée,
Et son teint au vostre pareil.
Las ! voyez comme en peu d’espace,
Mignonne, elle a dessus la place
Las ! las ses beautez laissé cheoir !
Ô vrayment marastre Nature,
Puis qu’une telle fleur ne dure
Que du matin jusques au soir !
Donc, si vous me croyez, mignonne,
Tandis que vostre âge fleuronne
En sa plus verte nouveauté,
Cueillez, cueillez vostre jeunesse :
Comme à ceste fleur la vieillesse
Fera ternir vostre beauté.
A todos, dizer que todos os poemas são maravilhosos e pouco
Então como diz o poeta Gonzaguinha ( Eu fico com a respostas das crianças e bonita e bonita e e bonita )
Bjs , bom começo de semana a todos, Maktub
Hello..
It’s not a poem but a prayer by Fransiskus from Asisi.. I like it so much.. :)
Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.
And to think I really didn’t appreciate this prayer until I heard it in a song from one of my favorite bands. Awesome!!
La Ciudad Que Nunca Duerme
La luna llega a su sitio en el cielo
Pero las personas no le prestan atención.
La luna se entraste y se cubre con un velo
Porque solo quería un poco de afección
“Duerme”, susurra la luna a la gente
Sabiendo que solo el viento sentirán
Pero la luna, llorando de aflicción, sabe
Que algún día
Le extrañaran
Un día cuando solo verán el cielo negro
Sin nada para comparar la belleza de sus amores
Un día que verán como ciegos,
Y en la oscuridad solo tengan temores
Nunca van a saber lo que se pierden,
Cuando nieguen su reflejo resplendiente en el mar
Solo sabrán como se siente,
Cuando piensen en la luna…
Una luna sin par.
-melissa
Hello,
One of my favorite poems is by Tupac Amaru Shakur and it is called: In the Depths of Solitude.
I exist in the depths of solitude
pondering my true goal
trying 2 find peace of mind
and still preserve my soul
constantly yearning 2 be accepted
and from all receive respect
never comprising but sometimes risky
and that is my only regret
a young heart with an old soul
how can there be peace
how can i be in the depths of solitude
when there r 2 inside of me
this duo within me causes
the perfect oppurtunity
2 learn and live twice as fast
as those who accept simplicity
I also love other poems by him, and the chinese poet Li Bai is also a splendid poet.
Sincerely, Steffen Larsen.
HAI….first of all that this is my poem that i wrote sine form 3. I made it frm the best ever voice of powerful leaders ,celebrity,and personality…n writer especially from wiliam shakepears n Samuel .L.Jackson….kennedy…i ccan reembr it already…n i combined it in one poem but, it’s has a soul value for me because i made wors into a Poem…SO,
Listen to SUCCES…….
Succes is full of promise,
Till men get it,
And then it is a last-years nest,
From which the birds have flown…
Succes is the child of audacity,
The secret of succes is constancy to purposefully,
Succes is never blamed,
Either attempt it or not, or succed…
Nothing succed like succes,
Nothing great was ever achieved,
Without enthusiasm,
Succes must be won!
What u can do?
or dream u can?
Begin it, boldness has genius,
Power,and magic on it…
Succes to the stronger,
who are always,
at last,
The wishest n the best.
My heart told me that the paintfull will gone if i’m succed…that’s what i’m talking about…..succes.
Dear brother/sister
we are siblings of a world torn apart
children of the light shrouded by the dark
souls tainted by the evils and malice of a mortal world
tested by the temptations that lay along the path of success
known to tarnish the souls of man, to darken the virtuous luster of an innocent pearl
whether you be a man or woman I write to grant you assurance that you are forgiven
with hopes these words, teardrops of the soul will free you from a guilt filled prison.
We were both born virgin canvasses which society laid an unforgiving brush to paint a masterpiece.
Strokes of happiness mixed with tragedy, humility and vanity, justice stained with insanity.
Every stroke unique none after to ever mimic.
Choosing to either continue to form and grow
or let the paint settle and be at the mercy of our critics.
You and I have taken our own paths but with the presence of great chance intersected
and met.
Told upon destinies road every experience, breath step is moralities test,
god has made it I die by your hands but I will make it be known you receive the forgiving love of this man.
To carry with me the filth of spite, the meaningless of a grudge
would be to reduce my ever growing flame to valueless dust.
For the journey of our souls has only begun beings invincible to any sword poison or gun.
The mortal man a vessel only to the immortal soul destined to one sweet day frolic in the land of peace and gold.
so I write to you my sister my brother, to grant you the peace of mind before you raised a hand of evil intent you were already forgiven.
Rest assure sure I wait for you in a place we can truly call home a place called heaven.
Rashid Akeem
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wise and beautiful:)
SKY FREEDOM.
The boy who knows how to fly the kite,
Knows what freedom is.
But his mother will never let him play-
Outside for long.
His teachers have always insisted,
On studying and utilizing-
The most precious hours.
The boy who knows
How to make the kite,
Has a mind,
Which knows how to stretch,
His hands for the unbinding freedom,
Concealed somewhere unseen-
In the vast sky.
Always, who has searched for a cloudless sky,
Knows how to search for-
The milieu which suits to resume-
His quest for freedom. The boy-
Knows, that on some occasions,
The wind, the thread, the hands,
And his luck have played something,
Unperceived by others, and have-
Taken his kite to a world where,
No colours rule and no borders divide.
He knows this, for, he is the boy who knows-
How to fly the kite.
Anulal.
http://anu-lal.blogspot.com/
The Giving He
Morad Fareed
There are those that wish, plead, and beg.
Like money they have yet to earn.
They recite words from the Greeks,
Like wisdom they have yet to learn.
There are those that are entitled.
Like money they have yet to spend.
They orate words found in magazines,
As false knowledge they will but lend.
There are those that offer selflessly,
Like money they have yet to give.
They hum anthems of goodness,
Like trees that give bounty to live.
There are those that bow humbly,
Ever. Always. Steadfast. Silent.
The only movement – their tapping feet.
They preach nothing, never, nowhere.
Like poetry they need not speak.
I have learned to try harder,
Like lessons I have yet to know.
I have learned whom to admire,
Like growth that has yet to grow.
Like a poem I have yet to speak.
Dreamer’s Disease
Morad N. Fareed
What happens to an emotion ignored?
Does it get lost in the night’s sky,
Or end up a path unexplored?
Maybe it shapes the spirit,
Like the waterfall files
The bedrock beneath it.
Maybe it transforms to lie,
And possess your starry sky.
Or does they die?
What happens to an emotion evaded?
Does it get recycled in the mind’s eye,
Or end up a dream degraded.
Maybe it destroys the spirit,
Like the waterfall pulverizes
The bedrock beneath it!
Maybe it transforms to self-hate,
And masks your memory’s weight!
Or does it reincarnate?
“To someone”
I know you exist
Where are you?
I feel you
but I cant see you
I want you
but I cant find you
Here: so close to me
There: where?
…missing you
…having you on my skin.
I DO BELIEVE IN YOU!!!
Dulfi
“Comes the Dawn”
After a while
you learn the subtle difference
between holding a hand
and chaining a soul.
And you learn
that love doesn’t mean leaning,
and company doesn’t mean security.
And you begin to learn that
kisses aren’t contracts
and presents aren’t promises.
And you begin to accept defeats
with your head up and your eyes open
with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child.
And you learn to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure…
that you really are strong,
and you really do have worth.
And you learn and learn…
with every goodbye you learn.
Jorge Luis Borges
i like ur poem..
if only i could write such poem like yours..
i have a poem and i want to post it on this blog..
but i dont know how to do so…
can u tell me how??
also love this poem.. ‘coz i love reading poems and quoets of my fvorite author, paulo.. keep on writing inspirational poems for us .. thanks … :)
i am inlove with your the poem! :D
love the last poem!
such a straight foward and true poem, i think everyone can find themselves in it when they read it. love it!
so true!
thank you for sharing.
i like your poem! thank you for sharing, i want to share it with my friends! and surely they’re gonna love it..
I like it, it has a lot of meanings in every sentences…
THSI IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL POEM I HAVE EVER READ…
Your memories rob me of my words
As the photographs lose their colors
Nameless feelings dawned in a mist
Your black and white grace I’m beginning to miss
Waiting in line for a whitewashed mind
It may take a storm to lose the track of time
Looking for clarity in the chords of a guitar
Someday baby you’ll know you were my star…
Like reefs swaying in the oceans below
We wave at you as you fly above
To paint your dreams in the apple of your eye
My seagull spirit soars listlessly over the isles
Someday I long to be at the bottom
Of these endless depths of emotion
A pebble waiting to settle on the floor
Being circled by your mysterious undercurrents
The moss grows back on the stones
The moistness crawls back into my soul
The sun is lost in his thoughts among the clouds
The gardens seem to have lost their sounds
I gaze at this sepia scene through my tainted window
Listening glassy-eyed to your favorite song on the radio
This connection torments me again as we stretch these lines
Someday you’ll know…
…tenderness can shatter images of lifetimes
This is a poem I wrote when I got over all the bad things happening in my life, my dad moving to another country for work, my uncle dying, my other uncle getting diagnosed with cancer. These things still hurt, but I handle them better. Anyway, this is my poem, hope you like it.
My Awakening
Memories I’ve repressed now haunt me in my dreams
I keep seeing her stumbling around in the dark,
Blindly making her way through, oblivious to all that is beautiful
I shudder at the thought of this ghost of my past
Gliding around in my mind; I am positive my body is restless in unconsciousness
This person I used to be, a stranger to me now, might as well have been dead
For it certainly was not alive
Then you came along, my knight in shining armor, my savior
You pulled me out of my deep, centuries old slumber
You rescued me from the horror of nothingness,
The agony I was battling with every single day
I remember thinking, ‘Salvation is finally here’
An angel sent from heaven, you had to be
For you brought me back to life, to existence, to love
You awakened my senses and made me appreciate all that was around me
Because of you, thanks to you, I am standing on the edge of a cliff
My arms spread wide open, the wind whistling through my hair, stinging my face
I take a deep breath, and smiling, I let go of all that was holding me back
I abandoned my fears, turned my back on my insecurities,
And jumped the leap of faith.
My dear friend, my love, you were my miracle,
And nothing would ever stop me from following you to the world’s end
Thank you for reading it
I love this poem so much!
For me every word is true!
Feast on your life…Just perfect!
Love after Love
The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
~ Derek Walcott ~
I wish I could paint your beautiful face, but the paint would dissolve at its sight.
I wish I could write the words of your song, but the tune would surpass the frequency of human ears,
I wish I could make a monument to your greatness but the clay would bow down in shame,
I wish I could speak your beauty but my tongue would tremble at the utterance,
I wish I could dance your dance but my ankles would twist in incapability,
I wish I did not need to wish,
But it is the wish that makes me desire,
Dream,
Float,
And reach.
LOVE by my son Luka age 8
You set my heart on fire.
First you love me
and now you hardly do.
I hardly love you too,
Oh,how bad are you.
Love should be caring
Love should be nice.
Love shouldn’t reject
Or be a fight.
Mi pequeño se poema se encuentra en el link de esta cancion, los uni por que me parecia que la melodia iba muy bien con la letra, espero que sea de su agrado.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6SHxwAK_3pU
The Seeker
He came out of the darkness
seeking light, enlightenment
seeking the path, the connection
Confident, a survivor of battles
unshakable, resolute
hundreds of awrad, prayers
lift up his soul seeking
Love for the One
Dreams of Al Habib succor him
dwelling in the Beloved’s presence
permeates his life, his journey
The Trustworthy, pulls it all
and weaves with each prayer
a new beginning, a nascent path
Doors and mirrors reflect
his destiny
The homeland of peace calls out
as the wings of his soul
lift up and rise
to the dawn of a life of
giving…
awsome great .
He embraces light and giving, thanks for your comments
Archipelago Series
copyright Anne 2008
Archipelago II
The islands of the Aegean Archipelago
Were scattered like the islands of
Her memory of Helen.
The largest was the landscape of love,
Shared, then lost, the most populated with memories.
Then on to the most craggy of the lot:
Rough spots, cliff-hangers, if you will–
Some that had left them dangling by a fraying rope,
Some whose views from the top had been mesmerizing.
After that, the smaller islands:
One, merely a glance;
Another, a longer look across a table;
The next, a tear that left a trail of black down her cheek;
Finally, the smallest but dearest–her voice.
The islands fade now, but her voice
Is the chime of memory
Each time the wind blows.
Archipelago III
Islands keep appearing.
Some slowly,
Some jutting up abruptly,
Some playing Hide and Seek
Like my dream lover.
She appears, she disappears,
She is angry, hurt,
Sometimes consoling,
But always indignant,
Justified, always right, and
Alone.
Alone is the largest island:
Safe, a fortress against feeling,
Like Jonah in the Whale.
The islands that jut up in this
Sea of Consciousness are
Small but potent:
The most rugged islands are
Pain that others caused and
Memory that refuses to forgive.
“Lean into the sharp edges,”
Helen Keller said. She bled but
She could see for the first time
A world that had denied itself to her.
And there are other islands,
One for business,
One for the impersonal voice,
I get to visit often—like going to the mall.
Like reading the daily paper—
Mundane, pedestrian, ordinary,
Yet still compartmentalized—
Shall I go to this store? Or that?
Shall I read the sports section?
But once I saw that private island,
The one where my lover lives,
The one that is vulnerable,
Unprotected,
Beautiful…
My ship keeps steering there-
Calypso II—
And I want to be her captive.
Archipelago IV
These islands are my own and
They are uncharted as yet.
The first crude maps gave only
An imperfect representation,
Like an old sheet of Polaroid film
Whose development had stopped
Somewhere in the process,
Leaving only a suggestion of
What was there.
The later maps got the distances correct:
4,776 miles to London;
4,508 miles to Glasgow.
But from which island?
The largest which offered the most
To its inhabitants?
The one that had been cultivated
To provide the nourishment?
The one with the volcano
That seeped its sorrows?
The one that had been bombed
To test the weapons?
The cartographers had a field day.
How far was it from nourishment to
Seeping sorrows, for example?
Did the tides of a Full Moon
Hide more shoreline?
Where the hell were these islands?
Why did distance matter?
They finally gave up. So did I.
The changing landscape provided
Nothing solid from which to gauge
The distance between each island:
Only the mainland remained a fixed point.
Thank you. The Mainland remains out of reach for me at the moment…
i see you here
lying next to me
wrapped up in the
melancholy blanket
that mirrors your eyes
flawless disguise
lost in tought
dreams trickle through like melting ice
you surrender the desire
to open your eyes
when you finally wake up
and let the sun wash your face
giving birth to an innocent reverie
gethering pace
you plead to the air
to shoulder your burden
the bright sunshine
to not cloud your judgement
every passing minute
your dice roll to a stop
at every blink of your eye
at each tear drop
‘turn the tables’ you think to yourself
looking out for you there’s no one else
descend to dig your ghost off the ground
ammend to keep searching till you’re found
faith in you makes my words appear
i write for you with love, not fear
fly away you will, one day not far
but until that day, together we are
THE END
brought tears to my eyes too, beautiful
thank you. it feels good if someone else is touched with anything you do or say, no matter how little.
Jsut… ( so many questions for a soul that got lost)
Jsut how dark is the night so one cannot see
How dark is the horse that runs under me
How dark is the soul one can never foresee
How bright is the light so one cannot see
How bright is the sun before that it burns me
How bright is the spirit that tries to save me
How big the wonder
How big the desires
How big can it all be
Before one gets lost in the mire
How small the touch
How gentle the caress
How sweet the kiss
Which sets my soul free
Jsut how…..
No te Salves de Mario Benedetti
No te quedes inmóvil
al borde del camino
no congeles el júbilo
no quieras con desgana
no te salves ahora
ni nunca
no te salves
no te llenes de calma
no reserves del mundo
sólo un rincón tranquilo
no dejes caer los párpados
pesados como juicios
no te quedes sin labios
no te duermas sin sueño
no te pienses sin sangre
no te juzgues sin tiempo
pero si
pese a todo
no puedes evitarlo
y congelas el júbilo
y quieres con desgana
y te salvas ahora
y te llenas de calma
y reservas del mundo
sólo un rincón tranquilo
y dejas caer los párpados
pesados como juicios
y te secas sin labios
y te duermes sin sueño
y te piensas sin sangre
y te juzgas sin tiempo
y te quedas inmóvil
al borde del camino
y te salvas
entonces
no te quedes conmigo.
Saludos Paulo!
Limitations
I am swinging back and forth, looking at my feet
Holding tight to the ropes, my hands sweating in this heat.
Feeling like I can fly, though afraid to let go
My leg s are begging to separate, with the wind they want to float
Oh mind, you’re limiting me in every way,
Don’t you get that this world is slowing you down , it’s own insecurities it pushes on you every day.
Now open the gaps between each finger, exactly the way you did with your toes
Holding on, let your fingers be an extension of your soul.
Move through life lightly as the butterflies, with elegance but don’t forget their sensitivity.
They might distract you with their beauty, but their journey and destination is not always for the world to see.
i liked it pity much coz its very close 2 nature n reality
this poem speaks to my heart… :D
awww <3 warms my heart to know some random thoughts of mine can speak to someone else :)
1.
Oh watch!
Let me sway back and forth,
Oh let me feel so light on my toes!
See me spin ,in circles so grand,
Oh see me touch my chin as I throw you a glance!
Watch me stretch out my arms, touching my feet,
Oh watch, even a swan in this game I’ll defeat!
Hold your breath as I release my hair to the wind,
Oh hold your breath, these playful games may have your head in for a spin!
Take a peek as I play with my gown,
Oh have only a peek, with mere silk in flowers I’ll have you drowned!
2.
I am in love!
I am in love,I am in love with passion!
I am in love with the grass dancing with the wind, I am in love with the leafs playing and admiring themselves in the suns’ string!
I am in love with the rain tapping on the ground, I am in love with the wind throwing me around!
I am in love with the scent of lilacs as I pass by, I am in love with the scent of candy from my hair that could make anyone sigh!
I am in love dear, I am in love in this amazing reflection of You for which I’d die!
keep loving
thanx;)
this poem is a love-potion..to my mind :D
ur comments are the sweetest!:)
Sea Of Soul
As waves are to the sea so time
is to the mind: moments come
and go, then come again, and if
we try to hold them, and cherish
what they offer they just go again,
but always something then is left
behind, not for the eye to see but
for the Heart to feel, and finally,
when we stop wondering where
all this is coming from, we are
ready to receive, our eyes then
open, as time is to the mind
and waves are to the sea, so
Love is to our Soul, eventually.
And by the way: HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you, Paulo !!
I will… – inspired by Mr. Coelho!
Uncover what is covered underneath my viel
And Discover the real me
Unravel the beauty that is surrounding me,
and breath in all this beauty ravenously
I will..
Unlearn what love and faith mean
And learn to love and be faithful to me
Unleash the power that is hidden within
let Love have Power over me
I will..
Hold on when shadows blur my view
And I feel cold,unsure and insecure
Paint my sky with different shades of blue
And smile even when I ve got the blues..
Understand what is left unsaid
And stand my ground when others do not undestand
Give value to every single moment
And evaluate what is underrated
I will…
Unsink my boats, when dark thoughts are sinking in
And sing my truth that sails over the sea of my dreams
Let love to invade my soul, my heart, my all
And not evade love’s piracy
I will..
Leave room to let you inside
and let my heart be the eyes of my mind
and if your mind connects my own heart
then your eyes will be my new horizon
I will…
Unfold my talents without fear
Even when ‘you’ll fail’ is all I hear
not be afraid of trying or failing
And get back up , yes get back up again and again
I will…
I will be myself and not unlike me…
With so much Love and Graditude
Annie
Lovely declaration.
im so young to understand this but wat i got was tremendous
Thank you dear Arham…
of course you can…
love and graditude are…infectious.. :o)
your words make me courageous.
I m so glad dear Sana , if it helps you !
Love and Graditude
Annie
i like ur style “love and gratitude” can i also use it
what a moving words..it resounds to my heart! :D
Jaime Sabines : Boca de Llanto
(got it from i page called 11 Minutos)
Boca de llanto, me llaman
tus pupilas negras,
me reclaman. Tus labios
sin ti me besan.
¡Cómo has podido tener
la misma mirada negra
con esos ojos
que ahora llevas!
Sonreíste. ¡Qué silencio,
qué falta de fiesta!
¡Cómo me puse a buscarte
en tu sonrisa, cabeza
de tierra,
labios de tristeza!
No lloras, no llorarías
aunque quisieras;
tienes el rostro apagado
de las ciegas.
Puedes reír. Yo te dejo
reír, aunque no puedas.
My dearest Paulo, a poem I wrote for you for your birthday!
With all my love!
A perfect Alchemy
The elements of chemistry
A touch to my soul
In the magic of astrology
I saw my dream.
From the time I first found your eyes.
I found you everywhere I looked and everything I touched,
Time flew at the speed of light
As if, the world has stopped and time stands still.
Forever and always, finding you again and again.
Your presence is with me with every breath and beat of my heart
The sounds of your whispers, are always in my ear
You’ve shown me a love that knows no bounds of time or space.
You remain with me forever and always.
I fell into your eyes and into your soul
Myself lost in ecstasy
now only need my love next to me.
HAPPY BIRTH DAY!
the enemy
it is fascinating.
you are no longer the reason of my being.
you are now the enemy
who wounded me
who left
never to come back again
The death of the deer
The drought has stifled every feather of wind,
The sun melted down on the earth, left behind
An empty, exhausted, blistering sky,
The buckets come up from the fountains all dry.
More and more over woods fires, fires,
Dance above savage, demoniac pyres.
I follow my father through the bushes uphill,
The fir-trees scrape me, withered up and evil,
Together, we start the deer hunting quest,
The hunting of hunger in the Carpathian forest.
Thirst ruins me. The thin string of water
Drip, drop, from the spout is sizzling on stone.
My temple is throbbing. I walk on another
Enormous and heavy, strange planet alone.
We wait in a place where, from strings of calm waves,
The streams still resound.
When the sun will be set, when the moon will rise, round,
One by one, in a line, up here,
they will come to drink, the deer.
I say “Father, I`m thirsty!” he hushes me at once,
Bemusing water, how clearly you glow!
I`m tied by thirst to the soul meant to die
At an hour forbidden by custom and by law.
The valley rustles with a withered hiss,
Crosswise the sky, a dire twilight lit
the clouds, and far, above the cliff,
blood drips. My chest is red, as if
I wiped my hands of blood on it.
With bluish flames through ferns, as in a dream,
Astounded stars begin to gleam
Sacrifice of my woods, oh, beautiful prey,
How I wish you did not come, how I pray!
She bounces lightly then she stops
And looks with caution through the grass
Her slender nostrils stirred the water
In circles shimmering like brass.
A hazy fear glared deep inside her eyes
I knew that she would suffer;
I knew that she would die,
As she stood there, still, she was the sheer
Myth of the maid embodied in a deer.
White cherry flowers, high above her
The moon was sifting on her fur.
Oh, how I wish, oh, how I pray,
My father`s gun to miss its prey!
The valleys roared. Knelt, in the stream,
She raised her head, as in a dream
She watched the sky, the moon, the stars
Then fell and water gleamed with scars.
A blue bird rushed, in a tree, unknown
The deer`s life has softly flown,
Crying like birds when they depart
And their fall migrations start.
I went to close her eyes, below
So sadly laid her antlers shadow
I startled livid when, suddenly, offbeat,
My father screeched with joy: “Meat, we have meat!
I say “Father, I`m thirsty!” he nods that I may drink.
Bemusing water, how sullenly you glow!
I feel tied by thirst to the soul that died
At an hour forbidden by custom and by law…
But our laws are useless and dead
When our life hangs up on a thread
And custom, law and pity are quickly gone
When sis` is sick and hungry at home.
The smokes comes out of my father`s gun
The leafage in flocks starts to run!
My father kindles a terrible fire
The wood seems now darker and higher!
I pick up from the grass, as in a dream,
A tiny bell with silver gleam,
My father, from the spit rends with his nails
The deer`s heart and her entrails.
You, heart? I`m hungry! I want to live, I wish, although…
Forgive me deer, forgive me virgin-doe!
I`m tired. How tall is now the fire! The woods, how deep!
I cry. What does my father think? I eat and cry. I eat!
Translated by Paul Doru Mugur
Poema do Menino Jesus
Num meio-dia de fim de Primavera
Tive um sonho como uma fotografia.
Vi Jesus Cristo descer à terra.
Veio pela encosta de um monte
Tornado outra vez menino,
A correr e a rolar-se pela erva
E a arrancar flores para as deitar fora
E a rir de modo a ouvir-se de longe.
Tinha fugido do céu.
Era nosso demais para fingir
De segunda pessoa da Trindade.
No céu tudo era falso, tudo em desacordo
Com flores e árvores e pedras.
No céu tinha que estar sempre sério
E de vez em quando de se tornar outra vez homem
E subir para a cruz, e estar sempre a morrer
Com uma coroa toda à roda de espinhos
E os pés espetados por um prego com cabeça,
E até com um trapo à roda da cintura
Como os pretos nas ilustrações.
Nem sequer o deixavam ter pai e mãe
Como as outras crianças.
O seu pai era duas pessoas -
Um velho chamado José, que era carpinteiro,
E que não era pai dele;
E o outro pai era uma pomba estúpida,
A única pomba feia do mundo
Porque nem era do mundo nem era pomba.
E a sua mãe não tinha amado antes de o ter.
Não era mulher: era uma mala
Em que ele tinha vindo do céu.
E queriam que ele, que só nascera da mãe,
E que nunca tivera pai para amar com respeito,
Pregasse a bondade e a justiça!
Um dia que Deus estava a dormir
E o Espírito Santo andava a voar,
Ele foi à caixa dos milagres e roubou três.
Com o primeiro fez que ninguém soubesse que ele tinha fugido.
Com o segundo criou-se eternamente humano e menino.
Com o terceiro criou um Cristo eternamente na cruz
E deixou-o pregado na cruz que há no céu
E serve de modelo às outras.
Depois fugiu para o Sol
E desceu no primeiro raio que apanhou.
Hoje vive na minha aldeia comigo.
É uma criança bonita de riso e natural.
Limpa o nariz ao braço direito,
Chapinha nas poças de água,
Colhe as flores e gosta delas e esquece-as.
Atira pedras aos burros,
Rouba a fruta dos pomares
E foge a chorar e a gritar dos cães.
E, porque sabe que elas não gostam
E que toda a gente acha graça,
Corre atrás das raparigas
Que vão em ranchos pelas estradas
Com as bilhas às cabeças
E levanta-lhes as saias.
A mim ensinou-me tudo.
Ensinou-me a olhar para as coisas.
Aponta-me todas as coisas que há nas flores.
Mostra-me como as pedras são engraçadas
Quando a gente as tem na mão
E olha devagar para elas.
Diz-me muito mal de Deus.
Diz que ele é um velho estúpido e doente,
Sempre a escarrar para o chão
E a dizer indecências.
A Virgem Maria leva as tardes da eternidade a fazer meia.
E o Espírito Santo coça-se com o bico
E empoleira-se nas cadeiras e suja-as.
Tudo no céu é estúpido como a Igreja Católica.
Diz-me que Deus não percebe nada
Das coisas que criou -
“Se é que ele as criou, do que duvido.” -
“Ele diz por exemplo, que os seres cantam a sua glória,
Mas os seres não cantam nada.
Se cantassem seriam cantores.
Os seres existem e mais nada,
E por isso se chamam seres.”
E depois, cansado de dizer mal de Deus,
O Menino Jesus adormece nos meus braços
E eu levo-o ao colo para casa.
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …
Ele mora comigo na minha casa a meio do outeiro.
Ele é a Eterna Criança, o deus que faltava.
Ele é o humano que é natural.
Ele é o divino que sorri e que brinca.
E por isso é que eu sei com toda a certeza
Que ele é o Menino Jesus verdadeiro.
E a criança tão humana que é divina
É esta minha quotidiana vida de poeta,
E é por que ele anda sempre comigo que eu sou poeta sempre.
E que o meu mínimo olhar
Me enche de sensação,
E o mais pequeno som, seja do que for,
Parece falar comigo.
A Criança Nova que habita onde vivo
Dá-me uma mão a mim
E outra a tudo que existe
E assim vamos os três pelo caminho que houver,
Saltando e cantando e rindo
E gozando o nosso segredo comum
Que é saber por toda a parte
Que não há mistério no mundo
E que tudo vale a pena.
A Criança Eterna acompanha-me sempre.
A direcção do meu olhar é o seu dedo apontado.
O meu ouvido atento alegremente a todos os sons
São as cócegas que ele me faz, brincando, nas orelhas.
Damo-nos tão bem um com o outro
Na companhia de tudo
Que nunca pensamos um no outro,
Mas vivemos juntos e dois
Com um acordo íntimo
Como a mão direita e a esquerda.
Ao anoitecer brincamos as cinco pedrinhas
No degrau da porta de casa,
Graves como convém a um deus e a um poeta,
E como se cada pedra
Fosse todo o universo
E fosse por isso um grande perigo para ela
Deixá-la cair no chão.
Depois eu conto-lhe histórias das coisas só dos homens
E ele sorri porque tudo é incrível.
Ri dos reis e dos que não são reis,
E tem pena de ouvir falar das guerras,
E dos comércios, e dos navios
Que ficam fumo no ar dos altos mares.
Porque ele sabe que tudo isso falta àquela verdade
Que uma flor tem ao florescer
E que anda com a luz do Sol
A variar os montes e os vales
E a fazer doer aos olhos dos muros caiados.
Depois ele adormece e eu deito-o.
Levo-o ao colo para dentro de casa
E deito-o, despindo-o lentamente
E como seguindo um ritual muito limpo
E todo materno até ele estar nu.
Ele dorme dentro da minha alma
E às vezes acorda de noite
E brinca com os meus sonhos.
Vira uns de pernas para o ar,
Põe uns em cima dos outros
E bate palmas sozinho
Sorrindo para o meu sono.
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …
Quando eu morrer, filhinho,
Seja eu a criança, o mais pequeno.
Pega-me tu ao colo
E leva-me para dentro da tua casa.
Despe o meu ser cansado e humano
E deita-me na tua cama.
E conta-me histórias, caso eu acorde,
Para eu tornar a adormecer.
E dá-me sonhos teus para eu brincar
Até que nasça qualquer dia
Que tu sabes qual é.
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …
Esta é a história do meu Menino Jesus.
Por que razão que se perceba
Não há-de ser ela mais verdadeira
Que tudo quanto os filósofos pensam
E tudo quanto as religiões ensinam ?
Alberto Caeiro
si, tyudo vale a pena, obrigada.
Uma beleza este Menino Jesus! Sempre foi o meu preferido.
The Word
The world was born from the silence of word unspoke,
Sitting in non existence, basking in the imaginal realm,
Legions of possibilities clashing arms,
Cutting down what could have been,
Until the victor of what was to be took form.
First the hapless planktons of lower being
Forbears of life on earths unseen realm .
Taking forms beyond the eye of faith or reason,
Unfathomable depths of existence, form
Within form within form.
And so the creator began to speak,
And matter massed ranks,
To abide by the command to live.
And life began its journey from the empty
Outer reach, slowly
Painfully, casting off shapes with ruthless strokes
Of evolutions blade, paring down all that
should not be.
First brutes ruled the earth,
Their reign ending in the rain of terror
As light left the skies bereft,
Choking all beneath it heated gaze.
And then strange things that ancient tongues
Once spoke of,
From the temptation of an apple,
Rotten to the core but sacred in form,
Rose upon its two feet.
Soon the village drum beat became the drum roll of war,
Families estranged by aeons and continents,
At one another throats,
Ancient feuds placed brother against brother.
Now today the lost tribes of man
Find their way back to the family hearth.
Back to the word,
Silent, unspeakable, illimitable.
In unity is the sacred word made song,
The song of love that makes
All possible.
Daemon 2008
QUAL SEU CONSELHO PARA ALGUÉM QUE NÃO SABE DE JEITO NENHUM O QUE BUSCAR DA VIDA, E CONTINUAR SEMPRE EM BUSCAS QUE AO FINAL NÃO FAZEM O MENOR SENTIDO? (MESMO SE SENTINDO ALGUÉM ESPECIAL, ALGUÉM QUE LÁ NO FUNDO SENTE QUE NÃO ESTÁ AQUI PARA PASSAR EM BRANCO, PORÉM NÃO SABE O QUE DEVERÁ FAZER PARA DESCUBRIR SEU VERDADEIRO RUMO) …
AGRADEÇO MUITO SE HOUVER UMA RESPOSTA!
SAUDADÇÕES AFETUOSAS!
Esquecer tudo que fez até agora, e ir em direçao ao desconhecido.
I am the spark
I am that spark the sets alight the love of the heart,
I am the glance that pierces your defences from
The charms of one enshrouded in black eyed mystery.
I play havoc with your tears making bittersweet wine
From your birth pang cries.
You have fallen out of favour, yet my merest stirrings
Salve your sinners soul with a drop from
My cup of eternal grace and favour.
You who are imaginer and imagined cannot grasp the
Boundless horizons of my love that permeates your every pore.
I have sculped mountains, cast seas into a cascade of frenzied
Foam and tide,
Besequinned the skies with twinkling fireballs,
My celestial joke of a billion billion suns,
So far from your reality you see not the truth of their atomic heat!
You cannot endure my love, so like stars placed light years beyond
I allow you a short look of wonderment,
You glimpse my sacred tapestry in nights of longing,
Before I fold up the night sky and push you into a brave new dawn.
You think you are ruled by time and space,
That your being is relative to all in the physical realm,
But you are the alpha and the omega,
You are the trillions of atoms that whirr you into this illusion,
Living your life turns your eye to form,
But true consciousness burns all illusion before it, on a pyre
Of a gnostic brilliant blinding light.
You cannot not be, cannot fall out of existence into none being.
You are all that is and ever has been.
Eternal without beginning and end.
I have loved you so fiercely from such depths of this cup,
that the dregs have caught in my throat like poison tipped arrows
from a hunters arched bow,
As I drink hard of this impassioned love.
Eternal is the love of the heart,
The only reality in this world of passing form,
And you are my most beloved.
Ooh, love this poem, who wrote it?
I wrote this ! Your own poems are rather wonderful.
Well it’s Beautiful and thank you!
it’s like painting a canvas.
thank you! I appreciate it.
A poem? What about a poet, or three of them?
Jorie Graham. Emily Dickinson (A certain slant of light…). Theodore Roethke (Which I am I?)
When I was a child, and very moved by something, or someone–moved by anger or beauty–I could feel the hair at the nape of my neck prickling, rising, and for some reason (who really needs a reason?) it felt like pink. I believed this so totally that I told a little boy in kindergarten that my hair could turn pink, and he spent the rest of that year trying to catch it doing so. When I was in college I became obsessed with Ms. Emily Dickinson, who stated, “If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.” Reading that, I realized that Emily is my kin, and that poets are souls who have devised ways to speak to like souls across time. Poems are love, violently and defiantly and hopelessly obeying the rules of our four-dimensional existences and at the same time subverting them. When I die, when you die, time will cease to be linear, and we may know ourselves in all times, and we will all be poets, without needing to be.
PS “In a Dark Time”, by Roethke, saved my life. Particularly the words: “What’s madness but nobility of soul/at odds with circumstance?”
THE POWER OF ONE
It only takes one
To stand out and bloom from the rest
Only one ray of sunshine
To open a blossom to its new day
One tiny bee
Can build a garden of possibility
One little bird
Can seed a glorious field in splendor
One person
Can begin to hope for the world
One handshake
Can start the engine going
One smile
Will soften the hardest of hearts
If it only takes one
Try to be that person
Build tomorrow
With today, one day, one moment, one effort
And watch a new sunrise
Appear in that one doing
Like a tiny bee
Pollinate the garden that surrounds you.
©VL Marshall 9/8/05
Así te dejo ir
De: Verushka Hidalgo Apaza
Parece un adios, un abrazo mudo,
sólo miradas y una lágrima solitaria
que recorre un camino al olvido.
Y así te vas, y así te dejo ir.
No más deseos, no más quererte cerca
cierro el espacio que ocupabas en mi,
y tiro la llave al río amnésico.
Y así te vas y así te dejo ir.
Te hablare mañana,
como quien habla con un extraño más.
Te miraré a los ojos
como quien ve a un caminante más.
Te escucharé
como quien escucha un bullicio más.
No tocaré tu mano,
y mis labios no sentirán los tuyos más.
Y así te vas y así te dejo ir.
No más penas ni decepciones,
mis alas volarán sin esperar que me alcances
porque seguiré mi rumbo con un nuevo horizonte
Y así me iré y te dejaré ir
Verushka -
Que vuelo! Me gusta mucho la video del Kiwi! Gracias!
What a flight! I really loved the video of “Kiwi”. Thanks!
:)
gracias….
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buenisimo!!!!!