Suddenly all the memories were here
Magically revealed
By the pale beauty of her face

A tiger drinking at dawn,
while the rain falls lightly on a field of tender grass

If the way up
It's the same on the way down
Opposites touch
If we start to die from when we are born
And dawn and dusk for an instant look so alike
Opposites touch
If many things are two sides of the same coin
Separated by a thin line
Opposites touch
So agony is a way to be reborn
And the poetry of surviving in the midst of death

the blaze of your beauty
raindrops caught on a train window
sunrise on a lonely beach
the tick-tock of an old clock
the wind kissing your cheeks
the murmur of dawn that assaults your room
the blaze of your beauty
the crackling of a campfire in the middle of nowhere
the whisper of the wind among the foliage of the forest
a sparrow singing on the eaves of a house
a loaf of bread shared between two solitary beings
the moon reflected in an old pond

Autumn lives forever
in the old childhood memories
that crackle like dry leaves
on a campfire in the middle of nowhere


All the loves, joys and sorrows  
were engraved on our skin  
like the furrows opened under a splendid sun


How much love fits in a lonely tear ?
how much love fits in an infinite rose ?
Tell me if that is not enough to touch your heart

I walk along the beach cover by dew and sadness
How many more dawns I have to wait for you?

Please, my Lord, Have mercy on me
I pray day and night to you
Please, my sweet Lord
give me a sign
of your forgiveness
Maybe a dream
or a flash of lightning across the sky
whatever will be
and I accept your will

her delicate feet leave an almost imperceptible trace
On the dewy grass.



A sudden lightning
Reveal a carpet of sepia colour leaves
On my way home.



discover your beautiful face among a sea of people
made my day
splendid beauty in a gray sea

Letters aged by time
Never sent
Stuck in a desk drawer
Broken promises
In the sky the rain and lightning are woven
A poured drink and a half-finished cigarette
The gloom advances
And suddenly the room lights up
The letters are now burning

At dawn
A young deer quench its thirst
In a little stream bathed by the sun

The path
Upholstered
For long silences
The path
Covered in sepia leaves
That creak with the footsteps
And at the end of the road
The immense sky
Drawn by the flight of an eagle

the mist tangles between my feet
the sea speaks to me crashing against the cliffs
the church bells call for a mass for the dead


winter is my kingdom
the rain silver arrows
and the snow an imperial mantle


I make no effort to exist
I just try to be a faint shadow
in this valley of tears
it is immoral to take the air from another person


let us sit on the edge of the abyss
and let the seduction of emptiness trap us
to make it worthwhile to live another day

Your blazing beauty
dew
over my burning heart


The tiktok of raindrops over the pond
beats of my old heart
as I walk with you by mi side


My dearest young girl
My new home
is halfway between your beauty and my loneliness

a burning heart
for a rainy day

Take a knife and cut the hollow shaft
Of a white feather
A few more deft cuts
And he has his calligrapher's pen.
In front of him, in an old leather case
More goose and swan feathers
He will begin to write on a calfskin parchment.
For the next four years the Holy Book
The illustrations will be illuminated
With gold, silver, copper and platinum
A masterpiece that will survive
Many centuries after the monk has departed.

my loneliness
it is a kind company
never complains
nothing claims me
just a little silence
and a lovely sunset

As a nightingale sings over a rock
The sun is dying under its wings

I sailed driven by the desire of your body
For as long as I can remember
Dazzled I saw
Enchanted islands and bright dawns
Old sorrows drove the sails of my boat
I still hope to find you
Before my ship vanishes in the mist

I can't look for you anymore
Denied paths
Forbidden trails
I am a hostage of your memory
How your absence pains me
endless sleepless nights
unfinished poems

The splendorous morning
Shines in your eyes
I love you in silence

While I type on my old Remington typewriter
my latest poems
the dawn enters through the window like a shy maiden in love

we live only once
but we die many times



Unfortunate luck
We are just like gypsies
That we can't tell each other's fortunes



We were so young; we were so crazy.
But in the end
Everything passes
Everything ends
For better or for worse
Other naive actors
Will replace us on this immense stage called life
And all of us will finally be only pasture of oblivion

This midday
On the path,
silence,
Only the rumor of my  footsteps
On the dry leaves.
And far away,
The song of a nightingale
Among the trees.
This midday,
When an abyss separates  
My love and her silence

young woman, beloved mine
flames of desire in our small room
suddenly
a flash of lightning illuminated your naked body
slowly approaching me
and your enigmatic smile that invites me to paradise

One April morning rains heavily outside
my footsteps sound very muffled in the church
while the candles shine among the incense aroma


the silver-blue moon
glows in the quiet waters of Yangtze river
I have a thought for you


A gorgeous girl
Flourishes like a delicate rose
Among the streets of fast walking indifferent people


mystery things along the Inca route
walking down by a path near the river
slippery rocks in the mist
suddenly foam rises like the breath of a giant
and far away thunders roars
the Gods have spoken


These days
The claws of death lives crouched between us
but HOPE finally prevail

Bright morning like an albatross' breast
Your warm body entwined with mine
The waves of the sea lulling us in the distance
I am the guardian of your dreams

read me please
as the woods read the sing of the birds
like the golden sunsets read the footsteps on the sand
direct from my heart to your heart

tangled voices
with the sound of the waves
and the murmur of the trees
they say something
something suggest
a riddle
an oracle
it will be the announcement of something terrible
or a love that is approaching
this is the charm and mysterie of life itself

she steals her mystery from the mist
and from the rain its freshness
my love follows each of her steps

books everywhere
half-finished pages
the dim room
outside it rains heavily
I smoke my last cigarette
inspiration takes time to arrive

It is true that I invented you
One day when my loneliness hit me harder than usual
Your skin, your lips and your kisses
You will live longer than me in these verses



I climb up the narrow staircase of the old house
A little tired
A little defeated
Before me an infinite sea of great eucalyptus trees
makes me smile again




What's beyond a cherry blossom
A waning moon
And an ungrateful love?

The bar table displays empty beer bottles.

A cigarette is still smoking in an ashtray.

No one is sitting around

Everyone has left

After hours of talking, laughing, dreaming

Everyone went home as best they could

Countless bottles and cigarettes

Have paraded in front of us.

Countless friends and lovers

Whose names and faces we can hardly remember.

So it is and will always be

Brief instants in a sea of loneliness

Kisses, laughter and caresses that fade in time.

The seagulls squawk over the cliffs
The waves end like white foam at their feet
The sea is an iridescent mantle shimmering under the setting sun
Bronco, unfathomable and in perpetual motion
I contemplate it from my dimly lit room
In the distance a boat is blurred with the mist
Slowly smoking a cigarette I feel the sea talking, roaring, singing
sometimes it scares and sometimes it lulls
A melody that is lost in the beginning of time
The leaden sky announces a fine drizzle
I'll go for a walk on the beach
And the rain and the drops of the sea
Will placate this infinite sadness that sometimes assaults me
And then I'll go back to finish writing a poem

let's make a pact dear girl friend
I give you autumn and its sepia-colored leaves
and you give me a dewy trail
and everything else we share in equal parts

If everything was a perpetual present
And the past and the future
Mere traps
Gadgets of a Mischievous God
That he plays
With imagined times, places and situations
Mere mirrors
Bubbles that enclose nothing
Then
I would change my life
An animal would have the power
No regrets or hope
Nothing would get in the way
Between my desire and my prey
I would be a beast on the prowl
Willing to **** or die
Without the slightest remorse

sitting at the top of the staircase
the little girl shares a secret with the moon
about a lovely kid that captured her dreams

Traces of fire
On a skin embroidered with tattoos
Body degraded
By alcohol, drugs and sin
But those hands
Oh God
Those hands created beautiful poems
That move us to tears

Tic Tac
the rain walking on the tin roof
Tic Tac
the rain making shine the leaves
Tic Tac
the rain appeasing the fire of my heart

listen carefully
the murmurs of the trees speak better than us
at least they never lie

the ashes of love
the ashes of oblivion
coincide at some point
in the flow of life
one becomes the other
a bird left its nest
and the moon shines on the still waters
passion is not understood
it only lives until it dies
any afternoon in April

in the Urubamba valley
where the mountains rise to the sky
and the clouds look like cotton candy
where the gods speak with thunder and lightning
where the rock, the cloud and your body become one
and the pure air renews and transforms you
a song and a poem

in the gloom of a provincial cinema
the old super simplex machines
throw a powerful beam of light
the people settle in the rickety armchairs
laugh, clap, cry
start dreaming for an hour and a half
outside it is pouring rain

You liked to invent the day
with a soft tune
Or a subtle irony
We smile willingly
But I must confess to you
That we liked the most
It was seeing your hips wave
Like spikes moved by the wind

The old city
Under its gray sky
It has lost its former splendor.
Monstrous megalopolis
Scattered among the sands
And the Rimac River.
Boiling cauldron
Where they converge
All the bloods.
From your port
Tons of ******* are released
Towards a decadent Europe
And their venal politicians
They are recycled with every new choice.
And yet
Poetry, stubborn, continues to grow
Like a voluptuous maguey flower
In the middle of the desert.

As the years pass by
Her life
My life
Become a poem

blazes of colour
dropped autumn leaves along the path
only a soft rumor among the trees escort me on the way home

In a secret place of an old castle
As the sun goes down
An old man descends and walks through intricate passages
Until he reaches his favorite place: the laboratory
He lights with some difficulty an iron lamp
In the background burns a stone oven
The room is spacious with several oak tables
Filled with tubes, retorts, flasks and old parchments.
Several objects on the table are made of bone
He ponders as he contemplates a bubbling cauldron.
He repeats silently "the stone is the beginning of everything".
With great effort he has managed to decipher secret codes
"Add to the eagle the dragon of ice"
"The man of fire must be fed with a snow swan"
A lifetime of trying to make gold out of a stone
Yet another night immersed in this secret world
While the old kettle seems about to explode
Outside the dawn begins to break

Savage roses along the path
mesmerized by the echoes of thunders and lightnings
I look for you days and nights
'til the end of my days

If the luster and power of today's decadent empires
fades into the mists of Time
and the myth of the eternal return is fulfilled
we shall see the rise of old and forgotten kingdoms

Thunders rumbles among a heavy rain
Under a leafy tree
Me and my 7 years looked astonished the sky

This instant
no other
neither before nor after
this instant
when you are and you stop being
water running through fingers
precisely at this moment
when life passes before your eyes
like a paper boat
getting lost on the horizon
so that
we are all made of instants
ungraspable
fleeting and irredeemable