El Divino X
Publicado: Mar, 26 Sep 2023 18:40
El Divino
X
Él era lo divino, el niño concebido tan fácilmente, pero incapaz de vivir como los pájaros de sus cielos dorados. Incluso su perro Mate, tenía un amo que se la pasaba defendiéndose, rascando la superficie en busca de alimento. Era difícil; Un misterio, pronto su ternura dio paso a verrugas como dudas que sobresalían de su nariz. La transformación radical ya no se trataba de aceptación. No tenía intención de componer un poema, mientras tanto, lo que importaba eran las trágicas huellas de una vieja tristeza caterizada en la retina de sus brillantes ojos.
No me dijo nada, con una mirada sombría cuando descubrió que estaba llorando, simplemente se sentó en silencio a mi lado.
Hoy no tengo tiempo para la poesía, pero la sentí arder, humeando hacia el cielo como un recipiente de amor, feo como el infierno.
~
He was like no other poet. He had no flowers in his hair. He had tormentous thoughts, suspenseful doubts which hang from his eyes in a dried dialated sphere, yet he couldn't stop his quest of waking rivers.
He was the divine, the child conceived so easily, yet, unable to live like the birds of his golden skies. Even his dog Mate, had a master that spend fending, scratching at the surface for nourishment. He was difficult; a mystery, soon his cuteness gave way to warts like doubts protruding from his nose. The hardcore transformation was no longer about acceptance. He had no intention to compose a poem, meanwhile, what is of significance was tragic traces of old, caterized sadness in the retina of his brilliant eyes.
He told me nothing, with a darken look when he found me was crying, he just sat seating silently by my side.
I don't have time for poetry today, but I felt it burning up, smocking towards heaven like a love vessel, ugly as hell.
E. R. Aristy
X
No se parecía a ningún otro poeta. No tenía flores en el pelo. Tenía pensamientos atormentadores, dudas en suspenso que cuelgan de sus ojos en una esfera seca y dializada, pero no pudo detener su búsqueda de ríos despiertos.I love you not only for who you are but for who I become when I am with you.
BELOVED, Toni Morrison
Él era lo divino, el niño concebido tan fácilmente, pero incapaz de vivir como los pájaros de sus cielos dorados. Incluso su perro Mate, tenía un amo que se la pasaba defendiéndose, rascando la superficie en busca de alimento. Era difícil; Un misterio, pronto su ternura dio paso a verrugas como dudas que sobresalían de su nariz. La transformación radical ya no se trataba de aceptación. No tenía intención de componer un poema, mientras tanto, lo que importaba eran las trágicas huellas de una vieja tristeza caterizada en la retina de sus brillantes ojos.
No me dijo nada, con una mirada sombría cuando descubrió que estaba llorando, simplemente se sentó en silencio a mi lado.
Hoy no tengo tiempo para la poesía, pero la sentí arder, humeando hacia el cielo como un recipiente de amor, feo como el infierno.
~
He was like no other poet. He had no flowers in his hair. He had tormentous thoughts, suspenseful doubts which hang from his eyes in a dried dialated sphere, yet he couldn't stop his quest of waking rivers.
He was the divine, the child conceived so easily, yet, unable to live like the birds of his golden skies. Even his dog Mate, had a master that spend fending, scratching at the surface for nourishment. He was difficult; a mystery, soon his cuteness gave way to warts like doubts protruding from his nose. The hardcore transformation was no longer about acceptance. He had no intention to compose a poem, meanwhile, what is of significance was tragic traces of old, caterized sadness in the retina of his brilliant eyes.
He told me nothing, with a darken look when he found me was crying, he just sat seating silently by my side.
I don't have time for poetry today, but I felt it burning up, smocking towards heaven like a love vessel, ugly as hell.
E. R. Aristy