
Summer is finished, beautiful swallow
and you are already gone.
Spreading your beautiful dark blue wings
and flying home, over my memories,
among my feelings, between our countries.
It's hard to let you go,
but you can't stay here anymore,
your season is ended, your time too.
I wish you could.
Your winter heart is not for me,
you have to sleep under lands over the sea.
Where only my memories can be.
I was yours, when you lied me down on a soft cloud of whispers
and let me feel the sky, over your sea eyes, flying...
Just a moment in a whole life, a whole life in a moment.
But you went away
I will not feel the wind on my face again, next to you.
I will not admire the bright colour of your feathers.
I will not fly again between your wings...
You are gone,
and the summer is gone with you.
The sea has lost its colour
because your shadow is not over it anymore.
My lovely swallow,
I know you will be ok, wherever you will be.
Thank you for all you offered me,
specially the Keys of your thoughts
before... and after.
Goodbye pretty swallow.
Don't be sad.
You know it will be summer again,
but my warm wind will not be
between your wings again.
Summer is gone,
but you will always remain,
flying in my memories,
meanwhile I swallow them,
where I end and you begin.
(Background music: Group:The Gathering. Song:Marooned)
viernes, 5 de septiembre de 2008
Goodbye Summer Swallow
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2 comentarios:
Gracias por pasar por mi blog y dejar tus comentarios. Sin embargo creo que lo que a mi me pasa es que me siento no perteneciente a este mundo y no culpo al mundo, simplemente mi naturaleza no es de acá. Me cuesta abrirme espacios, prefiero crearlos y mientras más diferentes sea más a gusto me siento. Si bien expreso en ese posteo que no tuve una infancia feliz, no es un reclamo a mis padres sino un testimonio de que a veces hay que intentar descubirir y tomarse el tiempo para descubir los mundos que habitan nuestros hijos... un abrazo grande
Paulo
Me suscribo pues, a esta esperanza futura. Aunque intermitente, se nota esa fortaleza que sólo provoca el verdadero amor/hastío. Chingón poema en inglés. No todos pueden.
Chécate www.voluntaura.blogspot.com para ver si aplicas para una beca literaria digna de tus ganas. Y gracias por pasarte por ese recoveco de mi exhibicionismo tímido.
Saludos.
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