La Hora de Dormir
Las Doce y Pico de la Noche
Sábanas Frías
Esperando de Pie
Solo ante la Cama
El Sueño Olvidado
Afuera en la Calle
La Cucaracha Sola
El Grillo Muerto
Motores Lejanos
Alguien Que Pasa por Ahí
El Ladrón Escondido
Nunca Más Mataré a Mis Padres
Los Gritos Silenciosos
La Vuelta del Sueño Olvidado
Entre las Sábanas
Hasta Mañana
Hasta Nunca

Escrito siguiendo el consejo del día 3 de GloPoWriMo.

Balada de la niña desaparecida

He perdido a mi chiquilla,
¿la habrá visto por ahí?
Viste una casaquilla
y zapatos carmesí.

Tiene el pelito castaño,
cortito y encrespado;
no habla con ningún extraño,
tal como le he enseñado.

Tiene la piel de canela
y la figura esbelta.
Le iba a comprar una tela…
¡debo traerla de vuelta!

Tiene algo en la mirada,
yo no sé por qué será;
yo siempre le digo: «Nada
nunca nunca faltará».

Ella nunca había hecho esto…
Un momento… ¡por allá!
Creí verla por un puesto
observando para acá.

He perdido a mi chiquilla,
¿la habrá visto por ahí?
Tengo en casa una silla
para ella, sí que sí.

GloPoWriMo 2018, día 1.

«Without Ever Coming Out», by Carlos Germán Belli

When shall I at last return,
In which minute, time or age,
To my lady’s dearest part
—No one knows it, only me—
So inside her I just stay
Without ever coming out?
To that place I want to go,
To her deepest inner side,
To the secret valley of joy
Where my body and soul are one.
I long coming back to there
Where I passed for yesterday.
It was just so little time!
But now I will stay for long:
Not as owner of a land,
But as truly worldwide king.

From ‘Under the Red Midnight Sun’.  Dime más

The Phantom

I saw a girl last night.
She dances under the dome of the sky,
Under the dome of the spanning night that surrounds the living.
She hears the music and dances to it,
The music that surrounds the silence of the dead,
The music that sounds in the morning
As the sunbeam touches the interstices of Earth
Unseen by men,
The music that sounds in the afternoon
Among the franticness of hurried men
Who die little by little.
The music that sounds in the night
Upon the quiet air that stays around
For those who listen.

I hear that music.

I stand upon a country of a vast territory,
Whose days and nights are the successions
Of sound and silence intertwined
With light and darkness.
This is a land where young men
Are launched into the work of dealing with unmatching pieces
For the sake of wage.
This is a land where old men,
Sat on very new couches,
Watch the full action of TV series
As a lifetime payment.
Old men, young men, all living
Walk their paths across this land of music
And never listen.

Until today.

Today, the cars stop suddenly in the middle of the traffic
Which so disappears.
Today, the workers forget where they were going to
And fill the buses and the streets with idle confusion.
Today, the assasins watch for the first time
The effusion of human life out of their hands.
Today, the newborns understand
The light.
Today, the elders close their eyes
And see the darkness inside them.
And the morning turns into afternoon,
And the afternoon turns into the night,
And a girl comes back to the night
And dances to the music.


Written after the daily prompt of NaPoWriMo.

The Bathroom

No one can see me through these walls
Of bricks and cement made.
I stand alone and wash my teeth
On every single day.
I sit upon a toilet and
The time, it went away,
I stand and turn and see again
Whatever that I ate.
I wash my hands with soap and I
Don’t see the dirt displayed.
I watch myself on mirror’s face
And nothing have to say,
I see a face that stares at me
And never ever fades.
But is it me? All I can know
Remains amid the space
Of air and time by walls contained
As scenery of a play
Whose secret audience may be outside
The mirror and which may
Look at the actor’s movements, but
So motionless he stays.

Written after the daily prompt of NaPoWriMo.