Saturday, February 27, 2010

Misty anguish

My mind aches
At the vision of your misty shape.
The echoes of a remote afternoon
Fly to my bossom
To stay with me tonight,
Till the morrow of a neverending death.


  1. A rather dreamful poem born in the mist. Congratulations.

  2. uff...very difficult...come on, Mary

    Mis pesadillas
    Por la visión de tu figura en la niebla
    Los ecos de una lejana tarde
    Revoloteando por mi torso
    Quedate a pasar esta noche conmigo
    Hasta la llegada de la interminable muerte.


  3. Quite true that mist can easily distort images as it enriches the so subjective perception of what we should be seeing.
    For f... sake, what a twisted boring sentence have I written, but it sounds great, doesn`t it?

  4. Thank you for your support, brother in name. Were it not for the mist I wouldn't have written this poem.

    mangeles: your translation sounds as if it were a different poem, and I lke it.

    An existential sentence, Rocío. Not boring at all. Yoour comments are a honour for me and my newly born blog.

    Thank you all, friends.

  5. The paradox of the last line seems bright.

  6. Thank you, Oakie. We're all learning here.