A dream III

If the rose knew
how much she is loved,
would it change anything?

Does the rose need us
to say?

Would she, maybe, in fact, prefer
not a word to ever be said to her
for words just add weight
to the air?

May it be that words are poison
for whom cannot speak herself?

When I look at the rose, I feel how 

the forest grows so vast, inside myself.
If not for some strange magic
I think I would burst out in leaves.
If she knew 
how much she is loved,
would it change anything?

Only in dreams
she embraces me
and I wake up with pricked hands.

Deseo terrenal XXII

(2018)

Viéndome reflejada en el lago, es extraño saber que aunque me devuelva mi imagen, yo soy únicamente en este lado, y el suyo no es sino una profundidad oscura que no puedo conocer.
Su superficie se ve tan lisa, que se me idea indecoroso tratarla de romper. ¿Por qué querría perturbar tanta serenidad, que yo admiro?
Me pregunto si los peces me ven.

Mi rostro en tu rostro es el mismo, pero al revés. El cielo está bajo de mí, y tú eres quien se cierne encima. Sin embargo, solo yo me puedo caer. Solo yo me puedo atrever
a tocarte.
Y es verdad que me deseo dentro pero, ¿soy acaso bienvenida ahí?
Solo vine a contemplarte, porque soy fastidiosamente gentil.

A dream II

I love you like a painting

that I look at in silence.
There's nothing else I could possibly do.

I could never be in that prairie lying,
I could never bathe in that sun.

You hang on the wall,
to most of the days be passed by a quick glance.

To some of the days,
look at you in silence.
Wishing I could be there.

Moonshine II

When the lillies spread themselves open
like a book I just bought,
I think of you.
Smelling of new
and journeys.

The smell of each feather on a dove's wing
gliding through the blue above me.
Sun colorfully multiplicates on them.

As I turn you skyward from the dust
like a conch,
I find rainbow hiding below me.

When the callas lillies curl up to be cups
and rainfall slides down their chalice,
I think of you under.

Each night the moonlight comes across the hallway

in a wave to wash over me.

Spring Song II

Oh roses,
roses of May.
May you never
wither away on my head.

May I always wear
the crown so fair of a king
to reign over a never-ending spring.

May the horizon always bring
the sun in her arms each stroll

to watch upon the seeds.

Oh roses,
roses of a maybe
turning into yes;
from the earth you will raise
before each of my steps
and from the shadow, uncover
to the highest in the air.
I will walk on the ocean
and cross it all round
with my feet bare.