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,
the promise of a better future.
I cross the bridge,
leaving the shadows behind,
feeling the pain of the present,
but with the hope of a promising tomorrow.
For I am the dreamer of my own destiny,
and I will dream a luminous future
that illuminates my path,
with no shadow but that of the olive tree.
On the seas of destiny,
I sail on a wooden schooner,
under a sky of leaden clouds,
and a sea that churns like a furious titan.
The waves crash against the prow,
like hungry monsters destroying the calm,
and the wind, that great buffoon of the ocean,
shouts its challenges in the sailor's ear.
But in my hands is the helm,
and in my heart the indestructible faith.
No storm nor darkness can quench my course,
For I am the captain of my own dream.
I will cross the raging seas
until the sun, like a millenary lighthouse,
Shall light my way to thee.
His canvas remains blank,
Covered by the fog of inanity.
His painting is an enigma,
Without form or color,
Because he does not know what to paint,
If the reality he feels,
The one he sees or the one he is.
The dust settles on the canvas,
That pale memory,
Of the works he could never paint.
But he keeps searching,
Without rest,
For the inspiration that will allow him
To reveal the truth
Of his blackened existence.
In a dream, he sees.
The rain falls like a heavy black curtain,
Darkening the sky and the ground wide open.
Nothing is visible.
The stagehands take the opportunity to change the scenery.
Their deft footsteps echo on the wet sidewalk,
Things that are no longer useful are swept away by the current.
Dialogues without an addressee, heroes lost in the previous scene,
All is lost under the wet script, in its confusing letters.
The audience is in the dark,
Perhaps it always has been,
But it is the rain that falls like a heavy black curtain.
The breeze of understanding returns me to windward,
A subtle oblivion that does not let me move forward,
Leaving behind a waning nostalgia,
A desperate captain, a dull gaze,
deceived by the upside down wind.
Little Sirte, a port without end,
A voyage already aimless,
A deck without memory,
Stranded in the land of the lotophages.
Taciturn firefly, under the gray quilt of the firmament,
Alone on her journey, with no moon or stars to guide her.
With vain longing, and more sorrow than joy,
She stirs reasons to exist,
Even in the midst of blind darkness,
The fog is thicker than night.
The firefly would turn, but she has already forgotten her home,
Grief envelops it, like a vision in mourning.
The light abandons it, and with it all its folly.
My memory, a sad shadow dwelling in your Gehenna,
Slips into drowsiness.
Life, a gift borrowed again and again,
That is never enough. Not for you.
The present, a song out of tune,
A sad melody,
A feeling of absence,
A heart ignored.
You.
The wet grit of the watch slips through my fingers,
An exhausting, chaotic choreography.
The stations fill and empty,
With soulless trains, in a trance.
The pendulum of time swings up and down.
Listen, their chant remains the same,
Its music is an unresolved melody,
Of what has been and what became.
Life is a somber dance of fallen leaves,
Fluttering in the wind of nostalgia.
The year is a string, taut and fiery,
That rumbles in the silence of the calendar.
Longing is a lonely star,
Shining faintly in a darkened sky.
My thoughts are mournful tunes,
An enigmatic date in the heart.
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.
My soul, storm in a vessel
In the body of a foolish dreamer,
Screams for weariness, craves for provocation,
Its only mission is a life with you.
Under the shadow of the heartbeat that moves away,
It runs towards the void of eternity,
Where lips in a kiss mingle,
And we mingle in a long goodbye.
Passion intertwines with pain,
In a dance of desire and anguish.
Life is an eternal famine,
An incessant question that won't let you die.
Love, a flame in the soul,
That consumes and enlivens the heart,
An obsession with eternity,
A cyclical and incurable madness.
(*) Intertwine: Entrlazar.
(*) Famine: Hambruna.
(*) Enliven: Animar, dar vida algo/alguien.
The light of the sunset grows cloudy,
And the voices of the past echo.
Memories parade in the twilight,
Like shadows among the fallen leaves.
Sweet melancholy assails,
Like a tide of bitterness that creeps in.
Sorrow, a sad song that is silenced,
At the end of the long journey of the one who never traveled.
(*) Assail: Asaltar, acometer
(*) Sorrow: Dolor, pesar
(*) Creep in: Entrar en puntillas
The calendar thins to a single sheet,
Timid farewell,
Haunted dreams escaped,
In the hope of catching a new naive.
I am left with an awakening, a song without notes,
Lyric of the devastated heart.
(*) Thin (v): Adelgazar
(*) Naive: Ingenuo
St. Nicholas disguises himself in a veil of tar,
Darkening the childish fantasy, my Christmas shrinks,
Its gloom black as nothingness invades my mind,
The feeling of anguish, a whirlwind that suffocates me,
And drags me down to the bottom, where there is no Christmas.
(*) Tar: Alquitrán
(*) Childish: Infantil
(*) Gloom: Penumbra, pesimismo
(*) Anguish: Angustia
(*) Whirlwind: Remolino
(*) Drag down: Arrastrar hacia abajo.
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.
In my own pandemonium a question drifts,
The bearings of my course come together gravely,
Amalgamating sensations of fear and hope,
My thoughts whisper ominously,
My soul darkens under the veil of uncertainty,
The beauty of my life flows into the confines of darkness.
(*) Drift: Ir a la deriva, dejarse llevar.
(*) Bearing: Demora naútica, rumbo, orientación.
(*) Veil: Velo
(*) Darken: Oscurecer.
December is here and the light of the year fades away,
Like a putrid fruit, the year slips away and does not return,
January's uncertainty sways in the air,
Like a cruel specter hidden in the darkness, harbinger of the next calendar.
(*) Fade away: Desvanecerse.
(*) Putrid: Pútrido, putrefacto.
(*) Sway: Mecerse.
(*) Specter: Espectro, fantasma.
(*) Harbinger: Presagio.
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...
