Margaritas

¿Me quiere?… ¿No me quiere?

Una margarita me dijo que su corazón pertenece a alguien más, una margarita me dijo que aún está tratando de olvidar. Ayer esa misma margarita me dio esperanzas y hoy me destroza el corazón. Rompe mis ilusiones con cada uno de sus pétalos, vuelve a repararlas con suspiros. Recoge mis lagrimas, se las lleva con el viento. Esa margarita ahora me dice que no puedo regresar, que su corazón está comprometido, hoy esa margarita me arranca los anhelos y se los guarda para ella.

La misma margarita que un día me prometió que todo iba a salir bien, el mismo jardín que susurraba su nombre. Margarita que me escuchó leer en voz alta los cuentos escritos en el fondo de mi corazón, que nunca abandonó las esperanzas de una película de romance. Hoy toma entre sus manos esas esperanzas y las lanza contra el piso. Un libro, una mirada. Una palabra, una sonrisa. Y a medida que la historia avanzaba, la cercanía aumentaba. Definiciones sin concretar, sueños sin aprobar y una eterna espera mirando el teléfono son lo que me queda.

¿Me quiere?… ¿No me quiere?

Veo su sonrisa en la soledad, sus ojos en la oscuridad. Escucho su risa en el silencio y me resuenan sus palabras mientras camino a casa.

¿Me quiere?… ¿No me quiere?

Porque yo sólo me siento en ese jardín, observando a mi alrededor y contando cada margarita que pierde la vida por él.

 

Two weeks

A month, the time left to forget.

A year, I left it behind.

A twinkling star reminds me the sparkle in his eyes and a sweet melody reminds me the color of her eyes. A dark night brings to my memory his seriousness and a blow of fresh air shows me their images printed on the sky.

A month may be too much, a year may be too late. But two weeks is perfect, two weeks for a couple to fall in love, two weeks to smile or two weeks to finish a book. It doesn’t matter, there are still two weeks.

If you can’t in a year, or in a month, then wait for those two weeks. The time I’ve got left to forget, to let go, to move on. And it doesn’t matter what I do, there are still going to be two weeks. Two weeks made of spring, sunsets and flowers. Two weeks that defy time, that keep frozen in my mind, but I know, sooner or later, I will have to bury them along with the rest of my past. Just give two weeks and I promise I will

Still around. Always haunting. It’s time betraying me once again, it’s life returning to her actual pace. It’s his smile frozen throughout the hours, it’s his laughter hidden between the trails of wind. It’s his happiness fading with the fog. Just give me two weeks and I promise I’ll forget him.

Unable to forget, I keep all of them in my heart and I will keep them there until the end of these eternal two weeks.

 

Bury

Sails

Like a boat abandoned in the middle of the ocean,

we aren’t able to see.

What we are sailing,

when we try to flee.

 

Like the inspiration running down the streams,

of the perfect illusion,

of perfect dreams.

 

A surrealist painting,

handling salt.

Driven by the wind,

with a landscape full of bittersweet.

 

Now, looking at the ocean,

and its foamy surface.

I look through a mirror

with it’s same purpose.

 

Don’t give up.

Look at the thousand ships around you,

waiting to set sail,

waiting to be tamed.

Taken from: url

 

 

Sail

Wave back

Takes it all but never gives, he carries with our past, our present and our general life. One moment he’s here and the other he’s gone. A shadow waving at us while passing in front of our eyes. He sing, he’s free, he never gives up on the people he helps. Doctor, healer, teacher and counselor, as many names as enigmas he has. He grabs history, science and religion in his hands and tells the whole story without leaving gaps. He keeps secrets but be careful because as uncertain he can be, he’s able to betray at the first opportunity he gets. Traveling at the speed of light and flying above our heads. Laughing at our useless attempts to run faster than him.

We are in his hands. He plays with our thoughts, crosses our paths with others and can take unexpected directions. He just waves at us and laughs because he knows we are in the palm of his hands. And I’m talking about that playful guy that put and removes, that brings and then takes away. The passenger that never gets off. We can’t slow him down or make him go faster. Capricious, ungrateful and treacherous. Playful, rogue and unpredictable. But wise as none. Always present in our lives but a passenger in them as well. He travels in front of our eyes and all we can do is wave back at him.

 

 

A hug for you, time, the only passenger that remains here.

 

Passenger

Malos hábitos

¿Por qué te vas ahora? Cuando ya estoy acostumbrada a tu dulce sonrisa, cuando ya me tienes hechizada bajo tu mirada. ¿Por qué me dejas así? Con la sed de hablarte y esa mala costumbre de lanzarte miradas furtivas de vez en cuando. No durará mucho, eso ya lo sé. La adicción de tenerte cerca, la obsesión por mirarte a los ojos y el placer de fundirnos en un abrazo como si no hubiera nadie alrededor. Así te vas, como si nada, como si nunca nos hubiéramos conocido, como si yo nunca te hubiera querido. Me dejas con el eco de tu risa resonando en mis oídos, con el fantasma de tus ojos observándome en la oscuridad, con el olor de tu colonia prendido en mi camisa y te me vas al infinito, donde yo no pueda alcanzarte.

Justo cuando ya estaba acostumbrada a estar contigo. Tu fantasma camina detrás de mí, me sigue a todas partes. Las mismas uniformes costumbres de recordarte, el mismo pensamiento repitiéndose en mi mente una y otra vez, mi amor vestido con el uniforme de tu partida. Te despreocupas pues ya no tienes nada en que pensar. Y yo mientras, sigo tratando de quitarme estos malos hábitos de pensar en ti.

Uniform

A new heart

Distance doesn’t stop words, it doesn’t stop good intentions or best wishes.

Today my gift for you is a new heart, new hopes, new wishes, new longings. I want to give you a new imagination, refreshed thoughts, a bright day or a quiet night.

Wherever you are, right now, it doesn’t matter the country where you live. I want to tell you that today is the time to start dreaming, to attend the stubbornness of your soul and to open your eyes to new possibilities.

Today you have a new opportunity to do things right: say “I love you” to someone you have forgotten, change those things of your life that stop you from being completely happy.

You can go and say hi to that girl at the metro station you never talked to, to smile to the guard that opens the door for you or say thank you to the woman at the store.

Want to have a different job? A different life? Go on, today you have a new heart, a new opportunity of doing things right, new hopes, new longings.

Today is going to be a great day, you have a new heart, a new chance of dreaming, creating, loving, smiling, living.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe me.

Even though we may be at a great distance, dear reader, I know both you and me have a new heart and a new chance of being happy.

 

Distant

Beautiful mind

Beautiful mind, living in an imaginary world. Don’t return, because you’re gonna get hurt. I remember I told you to stay up there, to continue dreaming and I talked to you a thousand times but still you decided to live in the real world. Beautiful and dreamy mind, you landed up in a bad moment, I wished you would stay where you were, to focus on the things you love. Please return to your place, I don’t need this anymore. Continue to dream, continue to live in a different world.

Leave the real world to me, I can handle but, my beautiful mind, keep stumbling upon your imagination. Don’t pay attention at the people walking down the street, don’t pay attention at the words that hurt you. Don’t pay attention at the world that surrounds you, just to the only thing that has been faithful to you, the only place you can trust, the imaginary world in which I decided to lock you forever.

Taken from: url

 

Imaginary

Symphony

Je t’aime, mon cher musicien. 

 

Like a symphony carried by the wind.

Whistling soft to the endless harmony.

Like a symphony hard to sing

created in the cords of his guitar.

 

Do, for the laughs.

La, for the scares.

Sol, for the after,

that we both share.

 

Singing a capella when he’s gone,

because his voice is like hearing birds at dawn.

And his laughter,

an arpeggio caressing my ear.

 

Re, for the goodbyes.

Si, for the returns.

And Mi if you want,

to go back home.

 

A beautiful glissando above the water,

compares to his sweet gaze.

And a perfect pizzicato,

is hidden every time he stares.

 

Forgetting him is like being out of tone,

and not being able to change.

Like a vibrato you don’t want,

to be in your vocal range

 

Often in staccato,

our paths crossed.

A tenor or a soprano,

singing both soft.

 

To the tempo he carries in his veins,

to the voice I was enchanted to meet.

A timeless symphony going on crescendo,

the song of a melodious friendship.

Este amor que contamina

Reina entre nosotros una peligrosa relación, hablar contigo es como domar a un jaguar salvaje que espera inquieto en una jaula. Tus palabras son veneno que acaricia mi oído y me tienta, me tienta a seguirte la corriente. Caminar a tu lado es como rodear a una serpiente en medio del desierto y verte hablar con otra persona es como soportar el frío de la Antártida. Vamos caminando en una cuerda floja, fijándonos en cada paso que damos y compitiendo en quien cae primero.

Voces vivas de amistad resuenan entre los espacios que dejamos vacíos como compañeros, mirar esos lentes de marco negro es como apreciar los nubarrones en el cielo y sostenerte la mirada es como navegar en una tormenta en medio del océano. Tu sonrisa es como una luciérnaga que brilla en la mitad de la oscuridad espantando a todos los fantasmas que por allí rondan. Después de todo nuestra relación es como una bombilla que prende y apaga, que se empaña y se aclara.

Estamos en la cima de una montaña que se nubla, en la que ventea y hace frío, una montaña en la que no para de nevar, en la que los picos de hielo caen sin piedad. Estamos en la mitad de una ciudad olvidada, en ruinas, destruida y empolvada. Estamos dentro de un volcán, la lava cerca de los tobillos subiendo una y otra vez. Estamos en la mitad de una guerra, cada quien de su lado, luchando con arcos y flechas, con tanques y bombas. Tratando de vencer en esta relación venenosa, de bajar por fin de la cuerda floja y de salir de este amor que nos encierra, que nos mantiene unidos el uno al otro, tratando de salir de este adictivo amor que contamina.

Swings

Swings, under the edge of night.

Starting to go high.

Carrying those girls to the sky,

up and down and from left to right.

 

The wind hits their cheeks,

and printed on her face a big smile.

One of them jumps,

the other one laughs.

 

Remember when the swings carried you to the sky.

When the wind blew your hair,

while you smiled, pleased.

Showing those dimples on your cheeks.

 

Don’t forget when you use to throw your head back and let your hair touch the floor,

when your friends pushed you forward.

Because I won’t forget, after that big jump,

the ghostly movement of a swing.

Taken from: url