In the thick darkness, your spirits shrink,
Like a chrysanthemum that withers and makes you weep.
Without a moral astrolabe, your steps are lost in madness.
A shadow rises before you, like a petrified statue,
Your heart beats with fear, seized by a sudden memory.
In the twilight of your wounds, your smile hides your sorrow.
Your lost gaze searches for a secret porthole,
Waiting for a dazzling rider, who never arrives.
Only a shadowy embrace,
Bony hands laid forever,
On your stiff shoulders.
Life, an invisible burden,
In the heartbeat of the blind mendicant.
Time, a somersault into the abyss,
A brawl to survive despair.
The now, a wavering flame,
In the darkest eve of the soul.
Centuries and seconds melt in the twilight,
A funnel of restlessness traps us,
It's a mist that shrinks the spirit,
The body is a ship of confusion,
Sailing in a sea of sharp mirrors.
The garden deforms into a labyrinth of darkness,
The plants twist in a discordant harmony,
The perfume of flowers mingles with the smell of decay,
And the song of the birds becomes a disturbing melody,
Light and clarity escape as darkness expands,
More than I can illuminate.
(*) Mingle: Mezclar (v) Mingling: Mezcla
(*) Decay: Deterioro, putrefacción (s)
The rain, a false friend, spreads along the meandering paths,
My footsteps glide gingerly through the damp grass,
The branches, like ghostly fingers, caress my face,
The mildewed and sticky air invades my lungs,
And the murmur of the forest creatures creates a twisted melody,
Beneath the silence of the scent of rain,
The warp of a circumscribed and oppressive life.
(*) Glide: Deslizar
(*) Gingerly: Cauteloso
(*) Caress: Acariciar
(*) Mildewed: Enmohecido (Mildew)
(*) Murmur: Murmullo
(*) Warp: Urdimbre, deformar, combarse
My moon, a blinding crystal-eyed gaze,
Its rays reflect the ominous scene,
Time, a perfidious enigma, advances silent and crestfallen,
And the stars stare like impassive witnesses,
In a fragile and uncomfortable immensity,
Nature's blind composer creates a shuddering melody.
In the face of despotic solitude, the heart beats with a somber rhythm,
A dark whisper in the mind,
Shadows and fear grow in the guts,
Like a plague before the walls of the soul.
Before the antipathy of the night,
The tedious doubt reassembles,
And the soul hides in melancholy,
In a cell of silences, noise.
In the gloomy lagoon of our eyes, a crescent moon shines.
The rivers of the soul overflow, and their showers of sorrow water the mind.
And the sea, where we sail, is a well of despair,
and our search for meaning is a bell that rings at the end.
In the labyrinth of my mind, darkness and light intermingle. The past is a shadow, the present a battle. But on the horizon shines a light...
