POETRY

GUITAR In the hour before the evening, in the fog of old streets, sometimes we meet the forgotten sound of a guitar. They opened the door of a dance hall? Or someone at the window kissing a beautiful woman? On this paved, it echoes like a long time, ancient longing for happiness and hope. Another time the sounds, in the …

YOU COVER THE SUN TO ME UP IN HEAVEN You cover me the sun in the heavens above, all the stars in the hollow of your hand! Ah, if they open the doors! As wind, I would enter into you! And stammer, blush and anger, and abruptly bowing the gaze, and, sobbing, quiet down, as in childhood, when they forgive. …

When the moon, women close the windows, and you can see the shadows of the cats on the walls, is down to the big rolls night on the tiles, it seems to me to die slowly, to go off too with the sun, to turn these false lights, these wicks, that keep me alive, so, not at all, in the …

This language is what my grandmother used tonight, looking from inside the frame. Her mouth remained closed, the words I heard them clear. My grandmother, she learned the language as you do water, flowing down from the cave, when she plays midnight walk hugging the low walls; and the irrigation ditches, where wash liners and sheets, feels ciof and ciof …

Sitting next to a tiller, to look after, you can carefully observe the banks open. Although not wanting to, you follow a track without curbstones that follow behind these waters, rotting and still, always. When the eye does not look at the banks, is a face that rises from the depths stomach, like a fish that lives at the bottom …

HOLD MY HAND Hold my hand at sunset, when the light of day goes out and darkness slips his cloth of stars. Keep it tight, when I can not live this imperfect world. Hold my hand, take me where time does not exist. Keep it close in hard living. Hold my hand, in the days when I feel disoriented, sing …

I THINK OF YOU I think of you, from the bosom of the sea when the sun rises and its rays darts. I think of you, when the moonlight wave serene whitens. I think of you, when it goes away the dust along the path, and in the dark night, when the passenger on the bridge, the heart leaps with …

I CALL YOU RISE OR FALL What your name: rise or decline? Because sometimes I fear I am, and the red of her roses tend cautious, and I sense a fear in his flute, for those days without singing and without end. But myths and mine, I feel the evenings, the dim light of my gaze. The forests, between my …

MUSA   Sailing immaculate, slipping on slate Mirror Lake, it only follows the bowsprit, the call of the seagull, sometimes he gets up, almost borders on the sky. An eagle with wings of Icarus. (Germain Droogenbroodt) http://www.amazon.com/Sruth-Ama-Irish-language-Rosenstock-Droogenbroodt-ebook/dp/B006PF8N4Y

MY LIFE   Without me you go, my life. Rolls, and I have not done one more step. Elsewhere lead the battle. I leave me so. I I’ve never followed. I do not see clear about your proposals. The little that I want, I do not bring it to me ever. And for this failure, I aspire to much. A …