Editorial Alaire

NEVER I DREAMT

Never I dreamt that the brightness was stolen
by a por soul to claim a paradise in darkness.
Never I dreamt that the bussines were broken
for a face of a child submerged in bloodness.

Never I dreamt with a flying bird in the ground
nor with the madness reigning in blues heavens.
Never I dreamt that a poet was a wound
sinking slowly in the Ambition's dwellings.

Never I dreamt the deceit harvesting nights
whose owners are wasted glances of people
and whose end is melting of indfference ice
that grows when there is no a bit of reason.

If I could dream it, maybe it be different.
Every path to the hearth is burned in this world
for the raw conditions to pay the life rent.
The only one who can save us, is the way of the word.

Juan Cruz Bordoy

No sé Inglés.

Juan Cruz Bordoy escribió:NEVER I DREAMT

Never I dreamt that the brightness was stolen
by a por soul to claim a paradise in darkness.
Never I dreamt that the bussines were broken
for a face of a child submerged in bloodness.

Never I dreamt with a flying bird in the ground
nor with the madness reigning in blues heavens.
Never I dreamt that a poet was a wound
sinking slowly in the Ambition's dwellings.

Never I dreamt the deceit harvesting nights
whose owners are wasted glances of people
and whose end is melting of indfference ice
that grows when there is no a bit of reason.

If I could dream it, maybe it be different.
Every path to the hearth is burned in this world
for the raw conditions to pay the life rent.
The only one who can save us, is the way of the word.

Juan Cruz Bordoy

Putting aside grammar, which I know in time you'll master, I have to tell you, Juan, what extraordinary images you've crafted! Powefull! Good read. ERA

Juan Cruz Bordoy escribió:NEVER I DREAMT

Never I dreamt that the brightness was stolen
by a por soul to claim a paradise in darkness.
Never I dreamt that the bussines were broken
for a face of a child submerged in bloodness.

Never I dreamt with a flying bird in the ground
nor with the madness reigning in blues heavens.
Never I dreamt that a poet was a wound
sinking slowly in the Ambition's dwellings.

Never I dreamt the deceit harvesting nights
whose owners are wasted glances of people
and whose end is melting of indfference ice
that grows when there is no a bit of reason.

If I could dream it, maybe it be different.
Every path to the hearth is burned in this world
for the raw conditions to pay the life rent.
The only one who can save us, is the way of the word.

Juan Cruz Bordoy

Traductor automático de google

NUNCA SOÑÉ

Nunca soñé que el brillo fue robado
por un alma para reclamar un paraíso en la oscuridad.
Nunca soñé que los negocios estaban rotos
por la cara de un niño sumergido en la sangre.

Nunca soñé con un pájaro volador en el suelo
ni con la locura reinante en cielos azules.
Nunca soñé que un poeta fuera una herida
hundiéndose lentamente en las viviendas de la Ambición.

Nunca soñé el engaño cosechando noches
cuyos dueños son miradas perdidas de personas
y cuyo final es la fusión del hielo de indiferencia
eso crece cuando no hay una razón.

Si pudiera soñarlo, tal vez sea diferente.
Cada camino al hogar se quema en este mundo
por las condiciones primas para pagar el alquiler de la vida.
El único que puede salvarnos, es el camino de la palabra.

Juan Cruz Bordoy

Es un poema precioso, Juan y seguramente ganará si lo encribes tú en Español.
Yo me he tomado la libertar de hacer esta traducción automática para poder leerlo.
Felicidades.
Un abrazo.

Sabe sí Manuel, de mi cálido saludo. Juan Cruz.

En ese camino estamos, en el de la palabra que busca otra palabra. En el del verso que se acopla al verso
en el del sentir que se hace estrofa y en el soñar de un buen poema, que entendí por la traducida mención
del sueño en el hogar que arde .

Un abrazo

Muchas gracias por tus apreciaciones Roxane. Me encantaría pudieras señalar apreciaciones que favorezcan mi aprendizaje en este idioma que comunica a tanta gente. Un abrazo y un beso, Juan Cruz.

Gracias mil, Marisa. Un abrazo y un beso, Juan Cruz.