Noche sin luna- Moonless night - Bilingûal poetry

in #poetry5 years ago (edited)

¡Saludos cordiales!
Este poema forma parte de un Desafío de 365 días de poesía inspirado en la foto. Esta es mi entrada 118, espero les guste.


Cordial greetings!
This poem is part of a Challenge of 365 day of poetry inspired by the photo. This is my entry 118, I hope you like it.

photo-1549417182-56f2bafc2c40.jpg

“Cuando la muerte se precipita sobre el hombre, la parte mortal se extingue; pero el principio inmortal se retira y se aleja sano y salvo.”

Platón


Noche sin luna


Carne, sed, sangre y sal,
eso somos,
envueltos en papel de hambre
y con hambre infinita de infinito.

Con la mirada llena de barcos,
conoces de memoria el número
de estrellas en un mar de cielo,
a fuerza de ser viento,
de ondear entre las ramas
de la vida;
de ser ola,
de husmear
no sé en qué nebulosa.

¿Qué harías si quedaras libre,
si de un plumazo se borrara la montaña?

¿Irías a refugiarte en la ternura,
a estrellarte en el borde de un retrato?

Tú, siempre serás tú.

No habrá reencarnación que te libere
del lodo de los sueños.

No habrá un valiente semi-dios
que te rescate.
Siempre te quedarás atrapado en cualquier mundo.
En el ojal de la vida me crece una perla.
El ojo, drenando tu noche sin luna,
rocía una sombra dormida.



photo-1549417182-56f2bafc2c40.jpg

“When death falls upon man, the mortal part is extinguished; but the immortal principle withdraws and goes away safe and sound.”

Plato


Moonless night


Meat, thirst, blood and salt,
that's what we are,
wrapped in hunger paper
and with infinite hunger for infinity.

With a gaze full of boats,
you know by heart the number
of stars in a sea of sky,
by the force of being wind,
of waving between the branches
of life;
of being a wave,
of sniffing
I don't know which nebula.

What would you do if you were free,
if the mountain was erased with one stroke?

Would you take refuge in tenderness,
to crash into the edge of a portrait?

You will always be you.

There will be no reincarnation to free you
from the mud of dreams.

There will be no brave half-god
to rescue you.
You will always be trapped in any world.
In the buttonhole of life I grow a pearl.
The eye, draining your moonless night,
sprinkles a sleeping shadow.






Written by Zeleira Cordero @zeleiracordero.

06/03/2019

Photo by Lucas Ludwig on Unsplash

Separator:
Cat
Simplemente Gracias

For your kind reading... Thanks!




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