There is the desert,
where the flower does not rest,
where the myth surrounds us,
and a hell that keeps us awake.

Life and death on the ground,
with huge cold stars,
Thousands of legendary paths
Uncertain place of hunting.

There ,
the earth dismisses its children,
there,
we are all nomads.

I have stolen more than once
hopes,
dreams,
and agonistic wishes.

I fired my memories many times,
I have refused to take some roads.
I have spent the night with death,
and I have awakened alive and sane.

I went out at an age that most still do not even accept to enter.

I have traveled roads at night,
of which others do not dare to speak,
no drunkards,
or in the light of day.

I've talked a lot,
loved women,
I have written some words and
listened many songs.

My name is Julio........
Maybe you have heard about me ........

I don't know there ......
but here,
the morning is of icicles,
of cold breath,
of a distant sun.


I don't konw there ......
here,
Prima silence,
the white roundness,
and the blue clean.


Here....
the leaves dazzle,
the water runs dense .....
the ice melts.

And there?

There was not there ...
but here,
I look to the East,
my eternal horizon,
the white vastness.

Here,
the creatures enjoy the morning,
the crispy floor,
run,
snort and dare.

There?


I don't konw there ......
but here,
the day unfolds radiant
and full of promises.


Today ..........  any promises radiant there?

Who knows when the twilight breaks?
Or the exact moment when the day begins?
Or why a perfume and not another?
What's in that look that calls me?

I know little and it's worth little.
Life keeps giving me questions
and I'm just a wasteland ...
only for minimal instants,
I saw the miracle blossom in me.

Of the pressing times,
and from the same backwaters,
of that delicate and ungraspable second,
I hang myself from all this.

Is it that we look at the moon because we are blind?

I know there is something more solid than the truth:
that can not be alone in me,
then withered,
and dies.

Words can deceive,
only music is diaphanous.
But the music does not want to leave us .....
Why?

Life keeps giving me questions.

The lights are shelled in this still night,
tomorrow is not written,
I still remember the heat of that skin,
and the light tremor that illuminated it.

Satin, silk,
soft,
warm,
beautiful.

And a dark almost black,
that cold nothing,
a dark Sun,
almost an eclipse.

The cooing of a voice,
the sound of a skin,
the light of a glance,
the breath of a being.

Ever play,
other times I dreamed,
with the warm sand on my feet,
and the view to the horizon.


I ever knew,
I once lost,
I have loved
and surely I will die.

There is a world out there,
and an infinity here,
of time I do not count,
that counts today for me.

Dear Friend:

The cold of the night falls,
from the very summit,
and the stars are witnesses,
the slow ones and the hurry ones.

The rights are not,
nor posilbles.
nor practices,
not worthy

I would caress a woman,
by the hand in other skins.
I see in her eyes,
for having seen others.


So today,
tonight,
right now,
I WANT:

Be fine,
that life throbs as in you palpitates,
that the walls are just that,
sets of bricks and mortar.
No more

I wish you on the route of the Moon,
up there,
in a night of stars,
comforting of thousands.

I want you orange from Sol,
with the leaves under the feet,
longing dehorses and carousels .......

That you feel the peace of Shiki,
that a love that enlightens you,
a hand that memorizes you,
a look that knows you.

Want you to know.....
 it's possible........
YES!
That you just have to see.

I know you,
 how do i know,
in your salty mouth,
and you crave to sate it.

Oh that thirst!

Lived,
that claims,
that whispers,
that restless

I tell you there are deviances and not rights.

So,
do not hide your warmth,
go out into the world,
and I know what you should be.

The sun shining a dawn
A smooth skin
An accomplice
(better more)
The flowering in spring!

Thrush singing in the at morning
and the evening.
The rains!
A good breakfast
a better dinner

The smile of a girl,
the advice of an old man.
Births,
the beginnings.

A few snowflakes caressing the face.
The tickle of the wind.
A word of encouragement.
Redemption and forgiveness.

YOU!

WE LIVE SURROUNDED BY WONDERS!

You must be able to see then.