Last night I thought of you, your words.
In ivory never seen as your skin. In the sweet look in your firm eyes, and your hands, and round fingers like the banks of the moon.
Last night I thought of you and you were a naked sea hugging the wind, And like any day, you were what you wanted to be. And a stream ran through us in the woods until dawn.
Last night I thought of you as a child of a world where everything was for him. And memory is indelible, even in the face of forgetting.
Last night I thought about you and without knowing it I stopped being me, and somehow I went with you, one too.
I thought of you last night.
I thought about your words, what you say and how you say it.
Last night I thought of you, just you. And it was a tenderness impossible to forget.
Your skin evoking ivory that I have never seen and your sweet look and firm eyes.
Your face and your hands with short fingers, almost round like the banks of the moon.
I thought of you and my crazy heart wanted to tell you how you are from my eyes.
Today maybe we could be together, and it would be just a flash of what comes endlessly when you speak to me from your voice.
Last night I thought you asleep sounding with your astonished eyes and your hair in silence.
And I would have liked to think your body without clothes, contemplating it silently like soft waves of a sea asleep in an endless wind.
Last night I found you like any other day and you were as you always wanted to be, just between the two
a stream running through the woods until another dawn.
And the perfect edge of your lips and the music of your eyes awakening the innocent eyes of a child in a world where everything is for him. And at that moment an unknown butterfly flutters from another spring and a golden door open, more beautiful and unimaginable and the moment will remain forever and oblivion can never erase it.
Last night I thought about you and without knowing it I stopped being me because somehow I was one with you too.
His memories stay, but he doesn't know how to save them or forget either.
It is unlikely to remember why or when it happened.
Only through his eyes, the geography of a landscape that unintentionally continues loving and those caresses have not gone as he would have liked.
They are barely part of a language without words, and the value of deciphering was not found.
Only in the twilight of the day, the perfume of those afternoons returns and with him the soft voice of indelible hours.
Certainly, the fear or courage to return to be has been invincible.
One afternoon when the sun and the breeze caress you gently.
An afternoon with no pain, not sorrow.
An afternoon where everything is what it should be.
An afternoon with you.
An afternoon that stayed forever.
From that autumn sunset to Cesar Simbaina.
I learned from You to be valiant,
Looking into your eyes,
Finding you in a forest of dreams.
I learned to touch You,
Looking far away, like in the bottom of the sea.
I learned that night,
That irreplaceable night,
That my hands stripped in your soft hands.
I learned to find you,
when you are and are not,
When we are lonely,
And you forget me,
And you return,
With love or without,
Because there is no end,
There never will be.
Who will remember the houses where they lived,
its streets and the moon and the snow of those days.
Who can remember that night that came to them forever
and in his hands that little piece of paper so beautifully written.
Who will remember the glances of his eyes,
perfuming the dawn,
in a world that both certainly inhabited.
Maybe one would remember his hair,
-oh, his soft hair-
and on his lips the kisses that brought them from the sea.
The time went away and maybe it does not come back,
implacable that day
each one found himself,
and they stay forever.
And although all things could not be remembered
one of them will resist oblivion,
that soft liquid with unknown flavor,
it has remained on his lips
like the soft stream of waters,
in love with the sea.
To Cesar Simbaina.
In the soft light of Autumn, and the gentle breeze caressing your hair.
An evening with the unexpected gift of having you,
without beginning or end,
When we were what we wanted to be.
An evening in the window of time,
who comes back without us knowing,
whith the courage and love,
when we sailed together.
To Cesar Simbaina.