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.

mundo imaginario

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.

Columpios

Taken from: url

The cat with the yarn

The cat with the yarn, the gray cat that only has to worry on catching his little toy. Just look out the window and see him play unaware of the rest of the world, under a spell. I wish I could be like that cat that once existed and accompanied me through my stormy days, without rain, without going backwards. Just focused on his yarn, as if nothing else exists. The spell of the yarn is  nothing he can avoid, unable to look anywhere else than his precious object. Just can’t be away from it, can’t let go even for a minute. That cat doesn’t pay attention to the cars that pass near him, the yarn has rolled into the street and he tries to catch it, until everything for the little cat disappears.

Except for his yarn, the only object he will chase forever. Go on, my little cat! Until time stops you, but I know it never will because there is no obstacle for you. He would go until the end of time, until the stars fall from the sky. I’ll miss that cat, since I gave him the yarn he spent his days near my house playing with. That’s what makes you happy and someday you’ll catch it. Sometimes I see the gray cat with the yarn in my dreams, his whitish ghost playing with the yarn in my living room at nights, I’ll never forget him. His yarn, his entire world.

IMG_0930

Taken from: url

Yarn

Counting sheep

One sheep, for the early morning breeze.

Two sheep, for all the faces we won’t ever know.

Three sheep, for the conversations taking place in the street.

Four sheep, for the spirits dancing between the crowd.

Five sheep, for the things we achieve.

Six sheep, for the things we lose.

Seven sheep, for the family waiting for us at home.

Eight sheep, for the true friends holding our hands.

Nine sheep, for the first smile of a thundering heart in love.

And ten sheep.

Ten sheep for the musicians that make souls sing, for the writers that make hearts break and the avid dreamers who fall but know how to get up again.

And until I get to the last sheep I’ll know that the road hasn’t come to an end and that I’ll have the opportunity to start the count again.

 

Avid

Bad dreams

Bad dreams,

poison in my bloodstreams,

gas in the middle of screams,

shivers carried by silent beams.

 

Bad dreams,

toxic air in my lungs,

bitterness in my tongue,

horrors becoming young.

 

Bad dreams,

howling in the moonlight,

tarnishing white,

with dark knights.

 

Bad dreams,

measured with tears,

hiding gloomy cheers,

playing with the gears,

of my quivering fears.

 

Measure

A sealed envelope

He sits down and looks out his window, drops hit the window frame as it starts to rain. He stares at the mountains and can’t afford his thoughts. On one of the corners of the desk there is an envelope, it’s sealed. He tries to open it but fails, he doesn’t know who’s the sender or how did it ended there on top of his desk. The rest of the afternoon he uses different techniques to open the envelope but after some hours he gives up and tosses it in the trash.

He walks to his bedroom and closes the curtains, on top of his bed there’s a note. When he reads it, he hurries and look through the window. There he sees it, the envelope he couldn’t open drifting through the crowd, carried by the wind. He runs all the way down his buildings, under the rain and through the avenue. The envelope continues escaping from his hands until it’s out of reach, within each minute, there are more drops on it. A sad smile on his face, whispering goodbye and trying to explain himself why did that envelope had appeared and why was it finally gone. He would have to wait for the rain to ease, for his sunny days, beautiful prairies and dreamy sunrises to return timely inside a sealed envelope.

 

Timely