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M Solav Sep 2018
​Explosion of the white tree,
A synapse in the damp air.
The fluid around the corsair,
Ambassador of the secret;
The perfume of a comet
Descends upon the wetland.

A goosebump stretches my hair;
Ripples forming across the sea
As nostril and flowers meet
Miles and miles without end.

The green flame always return
In a frenetic haze, a burst of fire,
As the solar wave caresses the earth
At welcomed glances, so soft a fur.

A last effort renewed forevermore;
Delirious poison continually brewed;
An elixir against the veil of dusk;
Cause and effect from dust to dust.

As the mind steps out back further,
It finds itself returned at the core,

Til all of Spring elapses.
Written in July 2016.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
www.msolav.com

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__________
Nis Aug 2018
¿Adónde fueron ahogadas aquellas caricias,
perlas susurrantes que se llevó el viento?
¿A quien voló la marea,
como quien se lleva algo que no es suyo,
algo que siempre lo ha sido?

Tu lo sabes, Corsario;
Corsario traicionero,
tu amor son caricias que no tengo,
tu cariño son sonrisas denegadas.
Negaciones que no tengo,
amor cariñoso, sonrisas acariciadas.

Otros poetas nada saben,
nada saben de tus sueños, Corsario,
nada saben de tu cantar,
de tus canciones de ensueño,
tu dormir melódico.
Y sola aquí te espero, Corsario,
en el punto acordado al que no acudirás.
Y aquí te escribo, Corsario,
en el instante acordado en el que no aparecerás.
Y aquí te escribiré siempre, mi amor,
y mi cuerpo omnipresente llorará tu muerte.

//

Where did those caresses go drowned,
whispering pearls the wind took away?
¿Who did the tides fly,
like someone taking something that is not theirs,
something that always has been?

You know, Corsair;
treaterous Corsair,
your love are caresses I do not have,
your affection are denied smiles.
Denies I do not have,
affectionate love, caressed smiles.

Other poets nothing know,
nothing know of your dreams, Corsair,
nothing knkw of your singing,
of your dreamlike songs,
of your melodic dreams.
Alone here I wait for you, Corsair,
in the accorded point to which you will not come.
And here I write you, Corsair,
in the accorded instant in which you will not show up.
And here I will always write, my love,
and my omnipresent body will cry my death.
Prompted by "Adónde fueron despeñadas" by Cernuda

— The End —