ANOTHER LIFE

I don't need to be anything
to be myself.
I am not a gentleman,
nor do I pretend to be.
Just a shadow,
who was happy once,
without knowing it, I had happiness,
those days with the love
of my loved ones.
The treasure that left,
death took them away.

So long ago,
through others,
I lived well,
I watched you,
in my life,
and I was happy
to have you
by my side.

They were my life.
They were there,
with me.
They were everything,
all that was necessary
to be happy.
To be full,
to be satiated
every day.
Then I filled
the absences
with things,
and that
was not
mine.
That life,
did not fill,
did not satiate,
I did not buy
happiness,
I did not fill it
with what was valuable.
So many things
were not
mine.
And life
was nothing,
with so much,
and in the end.
Everything
for
nothing.

In the twilight of my years,
in the deep hours of dawn,
I let myself fall into the air, and let go of all.
I close my eyes, and turn to the stars,
those that adorn my sky on four walls.
And sometimes I climb to the rooftop, and let the air kiss me,
and I feel so companioned by the stars,
and all loses its import by night.
A summer's night, amidst dreams,
in my nocturnal rest,
amongst my music.
Amongst caresses,
in the air,
that air that kisses,
when no one else does.

15-7-2025

At Last:

The day's end has come,
let's head back home.
To receive hugs,
let's give those kisses,
it's today's celebration.

The day concluded,
caresses arrive,
in the sweet home.
With so much love,
amidst the fire,
in your home,
the coolness,
of the breeze,
of love.

Welcome,
to your house,
with love,
to enjoy,
it's the party,
of life.

It's the family,
with the children,
with your friends,
in well-being.
That is happiness,
enjoy the home,
and life will smile upon you,
in sweet love.

In the home,
of fire,
of living,
warm,
life,
with
cold
and
heat.

"Yes, life is simple… but it can also be fabulous."
July 23, 2025

CAROUSEL
In my Ferris wheel, spinning, turning,
in life's madness,
in art.
The art of drawing out days,
the art of surviving ourselves.
Stories,
between silver and gold, by day and by night.
Turning through life,
observing.
Looking without seeing, at times.
Unraveling tangled chains,
Between lines and curves,
creating,
those days,
passionate,
navigating,
through the air,
drowned,
in the sea,
blood,
rivers,
giving,
that art,
from here,
from there.
Art,
my art,
your art,
all,
or
nothing,
to flow.
In everything,
your art,
reflections,
of life,
recreating.
In my Ferris wheel,
sometimes I fall,
dizzy,
giving,
everything,
I believe,
divine,
human,
reflections,
creation.
Without a net,
loose,
my art.
That thing,
so mine,
without success,
without fear
to be brilliant,
to be nothing,
it all matters not,
to create for creation's sake.
I drown,
each day,
I breathe,
from worse,
to worse,
despite,
I cast art,
those lines,
that I spit.
With blood,
sometimes water,
salt from my sea.
For no one,
for me,
I play,
I spin,
I turn,
within me,
dizzy,
on my carousel,
that which inspires,
that which kills me.
Giving everything,
on the edge,
of everything,
or almost,
art,
mine,
endless.
unreal,
or real,
unlimited.
Breathless,
pure image,
imagination,
overflowing,
drowned,
in Art.
it kills me,
not to give
everything,
endlessly.
Carousel,
circular,
of light,
within me,
unique,
endless,
despite,
my end.
Creating
life in you,
immaterial,
poisoning,
with art your life.
Create your dreaming,
in your Ferris wheel.
carousel,
of your life

CARRUSEL
En mi noria, girando, dando vueltas,

en la locura de la vida,

en el arte.

Arte de ir tirando días,

arte de sobrevivir a nosotros mismos.

Historias,

entre la plata y el oro, de día y de noche.

Dando vueltas por la vida,

observando.

Mirando sin ver a veces.

Deshaciendo los ovillos de las cadenas,

Entre líneas y curvas,

creando,

esos días,

apasionados,

navegando,

por el aire,

ahogados,

en la mar,

sangre,

ríos,

dando,

ese arte,

de aquí,

de allá.

Arte,

mi arte,

tu arte,

todo,

o

nada,

fluir.

En todo,

tu arte,

reflejos,

de la vida,

recreando.

En mi noria,

a veces caigo,

mareado,

dando,

todo,

Creo,

divino,

humano,

reflejos,

creación.

Sin red,

suelto,

mi arte.

Esa cosa,

tan mía,

sin éxito,

sin miedo

a ser genial,

a no ser nada,

da igual todo,

crear por crear.

Me ahogo,

cada día,

respiro,

de peor,

en peor,

a pesar,

tiro arte,

esas líneas,

que escupo.

Con sangre,

a veces agua,

sal de mi mar.

Para nadie,

para mí,

juego,

giro,

vueltas,

en mí,

mareado,

en mi carrusel,

ese que inspira,

ese que me mata.

Dando todo,

en el borde,

de todo,

o casi,

arte,

mío,

sin fin.

irreal,

o real,

ilimitado

Sin aliento,

pura imagen,

imaginación,

desbordante,

ahogado,

en Arte

me mata,

no dar

todo,

sin fin.

Carrusel,

circular,

de luz,

en mí,

único,

sin fin,

a pesar,

de mi fin.

Creando

vida en ti,

inmaterial,

envenenando,

con arte tu vida.

Crea tu soñar,

en tu noria.

carrusel,

de tu vida.

Daydream (Ensoñación)
Drowsy unto death,
brimming with imagination,
I walk among the clouds.
My eyes close, and I drift away.

Between the heavens,
lulled in my own mist,
I leave all behind, lost in the haze.
Between day and night, in the twilight,
everything unfolds slowly, and I glide
between vaporous clouds and the shining stars.

Exiting the body,
gazing at those remains from afar,
far, so far from my vestiges, I ascend,
flying to another world, that world of pure daydream.

That intimate world,
a world solely mine,
where senses are lulled,
my thinking self asleep.

In that rare moment,
in my ensoñación,
I can see myself,
and take flight,
soaring.

Departing,
bodiless, unchained,
within reality, there are crevices
to leave all behind,
and dream of flight.

In peace,
in my peace,
in my calm,
in total serenity,
between waking,
between dreams,
a dreaming soul.

---
ENSOÑACION
Muero de sueño,

lleno de imaginación.

Andando entre las nubes,

se me cierran los ojos y despego.

Entre los cielos,

adormecido en mi vapor,

dejó todo atrás, en la neblina.

Entre el día y la noche, en la tarde,

todo se hace lentamente y me desplazo,

entre las nubes de vapor y las estrellas brillantes.

Saliendo del cuerpo,

mirando esos restos desde lejos,

lejos,  muy lejos de mis despojos, me elevo,

volando a otro mundo, ese mundo de la ensoñación.

Ese mundo íntimo,

un mundo solo mío,

adormecidos los sentidos,

adormecido mi ser pensante.

En ese raro momento,

en mi ensoñación,

puedo verme,

y despegar,

volando.

Marchando,

sin cuerpo, sin ataduras,

entre la realidad, hay resquicios,

para dejar todo atrás,

y soñar con volar.

En paz,

en mi paz,

en mi calma,

en calma total,

Entre la vigilia,

entre los sueños,

un alma soñadora.

Daydream


Floating in life,
sometimes moments of pleasure,
seducing life.
Loving sometimes, in love,
along the paths.
Feeling goosebumps,
being true.
Without fear, no fear to fly,
to speak my words.
Building with my love,
those things for everyone.
Giving the best of me,
amidst my storms.
Among my moments of light,
sometimes I can float.
Cadences of my times,
elevating my soul.
In my time being myself,
without wishing to lie.
Sometimes rocked within me,
a daydream of one.
Sometimes unbearable, I know,
but sometimes seductive.
There are moments for everything,
to try to be one.
Moments to take off,
detached from the body.
Far from the material, mystical,
dreaming of being light.
Illusion of transcending oneself,
floating far from myself.
Moments for miracles,
to be a little better.
To give priceless love,
to see the stars.
Moments for daydreaming,
measures of well-being.
Far from the harsh reality of living.
Searching for myself,
appreciating that walk along the path.

------
FLOTANDO

Flotando en la vida,

a veces momentos de placer,

seduciendo la vida.

Amando a veces, enamorado,

por los caminos.

Sintiendo que la piel se eriza,

siendo verdadero.

Sin temor, ni miedo a volar,

a decir mis palabras.

Construyendo con mi amor,

esas cosas para todos.

Regalando lo mejor de mí,

entre mis tormentas.

Entre mis momentos de luz,

a veces puedo flotar.

Cadencias de mis tiempos,

elevando mi alma.

En mi tiempo siendo yo,

sin desear mentir.

A veces mecido en mí,

ensoñación de uno.

A veces inaguantable, lo sé,

pero a veces seductor.

Hay momentos para todo,

para intentar ser uno.

Momentos para despegar,

despegado del cuerpo.

Lejos de lo material, místico,

soñando con ser luz.

Ilusión de transcender de uno,

flotando lejos de mí.

Momentos para los milagros,

para ser un poco mejor.

Para regalar amor sin precio,

para ver las estrellas.

Momentos para la ensoñación,

compases de bienestar.

Lejos de la dura realidad de vivir.

Buscando a mí mismo,

apreciando ese andar por el camino.

In the streets of a city without sea,
sometimes, ghostly vessels appear,
moored to the streets on the asphalt.
Strange, astonishing presences,
those sailboats with their white canvases,
boats large and small, a thousand colors.
awaiting arrival at a better harbor.

Story of a dryland city,
with that Manzanares river, waterless,
with that river they dried up one day.
That city that is Madrid, gray,
amidst the dust and so much dirt,
in those streets where I wander,
boats on wheels, parked.

Vessels that once sailed,
waters of rivers, reservoirs, and seas.
While their owners dream
of happy hours embarked,
atop those hulking contraptions.

In the strange city, Madrid,
where everything is sometimes possible,
sometimes I walk beside sailboats,
like horses awaiting water.
In those streets, there are no pedestrians anymore,
where only the asphalt roars in summer.
While I melt in the July heat.
While I watch life pass and don't look back,
where nothing matters, because I am fungible,
among parked sailboats waiting to sail.

Between my seas of dreams and nightmares,
in that nightmare they call Madrid,
while I await better times.
Sometimes I see boats in the streets,
walking to go to the opera,
to go to the paradise of the theater.


----

BARCOS DE SECANO

En las calles, de una ciudad sin mar,

a veces, aparecen  fantasmales naves,

amarradas a las calles en el asfalto.

Extrañas presencias asombrosas,

esos veleros con sus blancas telas,

barcos y barquitos de mil colores.

en espera de llegar a mejor puerto.

Historia de una ciudad de secano,

con ese Manzanares sin aguas,

con ese río que secaron un día.

Esa ciudad que es Madrid, gris,

entre el polvo y tanta suciedad,

en esas calles donde me paseo,

barcos sobre ruedas aparcados.

Naves que surcaran alguna vez,

aguas de ríos, pantanos y mares.

Mientras sueñan sus propietarios,

con  horas felices  embarcados,

a lomos de esos armatrostes.

En  la ciudad extraña, Madrid,

donde todo es posible a veces,

a veces camino al lado de veleros,

como caballos que esperan aguas.

En esas calles no hay ya peatones,  

donde solo ruge el asfalto en verano.

Mientras me derrito en el calor de Julio.

Mientras veo pasar la vida y no miro atrás,

donde da igual todo, porque soy fungible,

entre veleros aparcados esperando navegar.

Entre mis mares de sueños y de pesadillas,

en esa pesadilla que llaman  Madrid,

mientras espero tiempos mejores.

A veces veo barcos por las calles,

caminando para ir a la ópera,

para ir al paraíso del teatro.


---

En las calles, de una ciudad sin mar,
a veces, aparecen fantasmales naves,
amarradas a las calles en el asfalto.

Extrañas presencias asombrosas,
esos veleros con sus blancas telas,
barcos y barquitos de mil colores,
en espera de llegar a mejor puerto.

Historia de una ciudad de secano,
con ese Manzanares sin aguas,
con ese río que secaron un día.

Esa ciudad que es Madrid, gris,
entre el polvo y tanta suciedad,
en esas calles donde me paseo,
barcos sobre ruedas aparcados.

Naves que surcaron alguna vez,
aguas de ríos, pantanos y mares.
Mientras sueñan sus propietarios,
con horas felices embarcados,
a lomos de esos armatrostes.

En la ciudad extraña, Madrid,
donde todo es posible a veces,
a veces camino al lado de veleros,
como caballos que esperan aguas.

En esas calles no hay ya peatones,
donde solo ruge el asfalto en verano.
Mientras me derrito en el calor de Julio.
Mientras veo pasar la vida y no miro atrás,
donde da igual todo, porque soy fungible,
entre veleros aparcados esperando navegar.

Entre mis mares de sueños y de pesadillas,
en esa pesadilla que llaman Madrid,
mientras espero tiempos mejores.

A veces veo barcos por las calles,
caminando para ir a la ópera,
para ir al paraíso del teatro.

---
ADENDUM
One Poem, Two Versions


ADENDA

Un mismo poema en dos versiones

Empty Bottles

Messages,
from the heart.
Slowly I go,
and I fade away,
and everything will end for me,
while that heart,
continues tenacious, beating
Sending messages.
Empty bottles,
reaching no one,
they have no destination,
nor an end.
Messages,
impossible,
Broken letters,
in empty bottles,
that will not fill with love,
that longed-for and sought-after heart.

Messages in broken bottles,
from a broken heart,
messages without destination,
love that doesn't arrive,
love of nothing.
Hearts,
that search,
for that message,
that will never arrive.
Poems in sad bottles,
messages that crumble into tears,
hearts trapped in their desires,
that don't know how to reach others,
love encapsulated,
in the void,
of nothingness.
Sad love,
in messages
of my poems,
broken messages.
Shipwrecked of love,
broken messages.

Envy

Always lurking,
those glances,
that ****,
envy.

Observing,
what they will never have,
always looking to suffer.

Searching for what they don't possess,
those empty lives,
that have no life.

Lives without substance,
that don't wish well,
filling everything with thorns.

Admiring all that belongs to others,
without knowing how to enjoy,
what is their own.

---

Through clouds I travel, through the firmament,
comfortable in my seat,
in the sky.
In the air,
for a few hours,
from one point to another.
While I sleep a while,
and soon in another magical place.
From one world to another,
among suitcases,
and finally,
the destination,
yet another place.
Through turbulence,
across distant borders,
in another world,
to the destination.

July 16, 2025

FEAR OF LIVING


Fear of dying,
you are so afraid,
that you let yourself be deceived.

A world without love,
total greed,
on earth.

Fear of living,
you let yourself be killed,
empty promises,
of injected lives.
Consumed souls,
where no one wins,
destructive
ambition.

They leave
without knowing
they are dying.

Because of the agendas,
those that deceive us,
with empty words,
from a few,
manipulation,
for all.
Agendas
of death,
total misery.

And life slips away,
needlessly,
souls filled with fear,
who buy everything.

Death takes hold,
of the world of shadows.
No one wants to recognize,
that the world is fading,
false truths,
for the end.

To the final abyss,
out of fear,
of living.

---
MIEDO A VIVIR


Miedo a morir,

tienes tanto miedo,

que te dejas engañar.

Mundo sin amor,

codicia total,

en la tierra.

Miedo a vivir,

te dejas matar,

vacías promesas,

de vidas inyectadas.

Almas consumidas,

donde nadie gana,

destructora

ambición.

Se van

sin saber,

que mueren.

Por las agendas,

esas que nos engañan,

con palabras vacías,

de unos pocos,

manipulación,

para todos,

Agendas,

de muerte,

miseria total.

Y la vida se va,

sin necesidad,

almas con miedo,

que compran todo.

La muerte se adueña,

del mundo de la tinieblas.

Nadie quiere reconocer,

que el mundo se va,

falsas verdades,

para el final.

Al abismo final,

por miedo,

a vivir.





---

21- VII-2025

Afloat on life's current,
at times, moments of pure delight,
seducing life's embrace.
Loving sometimes, lost in love,
along the winding ways.
Feeling the skin prickle,
being truly me.
Without fear, no dread to take flight,
to speak my heartfelt words.
Building with my love's might,
these gifts for everyone.
Giving the best of my soul,
amidst my inner storms.
Among my moments of pure light,
at times, I can truly float.
Rhythms of my passing days,
lifting my very spirit.
In my own time, being authentically me,
with no desire to lie.
Sometimes cradled within myself,
a singular, sweet dream.
Unbearable at times, I know it well,
yet sometimes, a captivating charm.
There are moments for every single thing,
to strive to be whole.
Moments for soaring,
unbound from the body's hold.
Far from the material, mystical flight,
dreaming of being pure light.
The illusion of one's transcendence,
floating far from my own self.
Moments for miracles to bloom,
to become a little more.
To give love without any price,
to gaze upon the stars.
Moments for deep reverie,
cadences of sweet well-being.
Far from life's harsh reality.
Searching for my truest self,
cherishing this walk along the path.

For Myself:


I want a little peace,
I want to calm myself,
just a little love,
a little bit of light.
Just a little of what's gone,
I want to remember the love I had.
I want to give myself a break,
that intimate moment,
just for me, so secret.
To take care of myself a little.

A poem to comfort me,
to dream from nostalgia.
A poem that consoles me,
caresses to keep me company.
A little while for myself,
I want to pamper myself,
I want to love myself.
I want to stop crying for sorrows,
I want to dream that everything is fine,
I want words to embrace me.
Those tender moments,
to rest my soul.
I want to be so selfish,
that I make this poem,
just for me,
to heal myself,
with my verses.

A small poem for me,
to remember that I must love,
that love that starts with me.
A poem I will never publish,
just another whim for me.
They are pampering to soothe me,
to spoil myself, just for me.
That oasis to console me.
a tender moment of peace.

A secret poem,
a lullaby for me.
From my heart,
to heal wounds.
A tender poem,
from that child of mine.

HARD HEARTS


Hearts of sugar,
hard hearts,
of hard sugar.
Hardened,
hard souls,
enraged,
who tell themselves,
like syrup,
sweet lies.
They became hard,
deceived hearts,
that see themselves and don't see themselves.
In their own world,
indulgent souls,
unwilling to look,
benevolent,
embittered,
hypocritical,
deceived.
without criticizing themselves.
Without knowing how to see themselves,
self-satisfied,
souls ******* others,
they believe they are made of sugar,
and they are hard walls of sugar.
in their flawed mirrors.
Sweet glances for themselves,
in their distorted reflections,
sharp teeth with others,
double standards,
self-satisfied,
harsh judges
with others.
Hygroscopic hearts,
that **** up what's good,
and tell themselves they are good.




--

28-VII-2025

I've given you all that I held dear,
My memories, my feelings, my truth laid bare.
Now my words are my testament.
I stripped my soul to gift it to you,
I've wept to wring myself dry,
To extract my essence,
Condensed.
I've shed my skin,
I've forsaken my breath for you,
The one I'll never know, nor wish to.
I've given the best of my being,
I don't want to know what you're like,
So I won't be disillusioned.
I don't want to know anything about others,
I've dreamt of gifting myself,
Of giving myself in waves,
Waves of me.
I know now,
There's nothing to do,
Too human,
To become light,
But I unleafed myself in words.
You can't imagine how I suffered donating myself,
What I've endured, disintegrated, naked,
In those nights of my days for you,
I gave you the best of me,
And you never knew.
It's sad,
So much work,
To be a futility,
But I tried with my heart,
That imperfect heart that thought of you.
For so many hearts that will be thirsty for love,
That love I carry so deeply that I overflowed in verses,
Those words, no matter what they're called,
Were created with such pain,
To whisper my life to you,
And you'll think,
That I was,
Like you.
Just someone,
Someone who once beat,
Who had dreams and nightmares,
And in the end, we are the same,
I am one more, I am like you,
And I felt like you,
I am you, too,
A part of you,
despite,
everything.


----
Soy tú

Te he entregado todo lo valioso que he tenido,

mis recuerdos, mis sentimientos, mi verdad.

ahora mis palabras son mi testamento.

Desvestí mi alma para regalártela,

he llorado para exprimirme,

y sacar mi esencia

condensada.

Me he dejado la piel,

he dejado mi respirar para ti,

ese al que nunca conoceré, ni quiero.

He dado todo lo mejor que tenía de mi ser,

no quiero saber cómo eres

para no desilusionarme.

No quiero saber nada de los demás,

he soñado con regalarme,

en darme en olas,

olas de mí.

Ya sé,

que no hay,

nada que hacer,

demasiado humano,

para convertirme en luz,

pero me deshojé en palabras.

Ni te imaginas lo que sufrí donándome,

lo que he padecido, desintegrado, desnudo

en esas noches de mis días para ti,

te regalé lo mejor de mí,

y nunca lo supiste.

Es triste,

tanto trabajo,

para ser una inutilidad,

pero yo lo intenté con mi corazón,

ese corazón imperfecto que pensaba en ti.

En tantos corazones que estarán sedientos de amor,

ese amor que llevo tan dentro que me desbordé en versos,

esas palabras que da igual como se denominen,

que fueron creados con tanto dolor,

para susurrarte mi vida,

y que pensarás,

que era,

como tú.

Alguien sin más,

alguien que latió alguna vez,

que tuvo sueños y pesadillas,

y que en el fin somos iguales,

soy uno más, soy como tú,

y me sentí como tú,

soy tú también,

parte de ti,

a pesar,

de todo.



-----

14 de Julio de 2025

In A Corner
Utterly mine, in the deep silence,
in a house of purest white,
On the cusp of a morning,
with my soul utterly serene.
In the garden of the soul,
among the butterflies,
softly fluttering,
gently whispering,
poems,
within me.
For me,
sighs,
tranquil and hushed,
from that weary breath,
that still persists,
whispering poems,
even as I drown,
in this life that is not mine.
While I await my flight,
to soar from my corner to another place.
That distant realm where the soul takes wing,
where peace knows no end,
where living no longer burdens,
where I shall never tire,
where all is beautiful,
on the very wings of God,
in my own place,
so far away.
Meanwhile,
time softly slips by,
and I still gaze out,
from this beautiful corner,
of a soul that has grown weary of living.

EN UN RINCON

Muy mío, en el silencio,

en una casa blanca pura,

Al borde de una mañana,

con mi alma sosegada.

En el jardín del alma,

entre mariposas,

revoloteando,

susurrando,

poemas,

en mí.

Para mí,

suspiros,

tranquilos,

de ese respirar,

cansado, que sigue,

susurrando poemas,

a pesar de ahogarme,

en esa vida que no es mía.

Mientras espero despegar,

y volar de mi rincón a otro lado.

Ese sitio lejano donde el alma vuela,

donde la paz nunca se acaba,

donde ya no cuesta vivir,

donde ya no me canse,

donde todo es bello,

en las alas de Dios,

en mi lugar,

lejano.

Mientras,

pasa el tiempo,

y yo me asomo aún,

en ese rincón tan hermoso,

de un alma que se cansa de vivir.

LEARN:
We know nothing in the end,
every day is a moment to learn.
Life is a line between our points,
let's discover how to live, all of us,
let's share love.
From love,
let's look,
and live,
among everyone,
in the world.
And let's learn,
to know how to discover,
the wonders
of the world,
every day,
in that
love,
that
makes
life,
life.

In my summer, in my garden,
a wild garden deep inside,
inside of me, and in my home.
Among the green leaves,
my secret solace.
Between the city and me,
lies my intimate secret,
an oasis of cool.
Between four walls,
a slice of paradise.
Among my dreams,
dreams of the soul,
among my days.
There is a moment,
in that inner oasis,
that is pure happiness.
A garden just for me,
where no strangers tread.
Where everything is perfect,
at times I touch my heavens.
Among lilacs and trees,
roses, flowers always,
where life springs forth.
Among songs of life,
among greedy sparrows,
a bit of wilderness in the chaos.
In the great metropolis, flowers,
always green, in any season,
my small corner, exuberant.
A corner of life to revive me,
a garden no one sees, within me,
a garden that's in my patio,
a secret city nook.
Among my beautiful gardens I live.

---
En mi verano, en mi jardín,

jardín selvático dentro,

dentro de mí, y en casa.

Entre las verdes hojas,

mi secreto sosiego.

Entre la ciudad y yo,

hay mi secreto íntimo,

un oasis de frescor.

Entre cuatro muros,

un trozo de paraíso.

Entre mis sueños,

sueños del alma,

entre mis días.

Hay un momento,

en ese oasis interior,

que es pura felicidad.

Un jardín solo para mí,

donde no hay extraños.

Donde todo es perfecto,

a ratos toco mis cielos.

Entre lilos y árboles,

rosas, flores siempre,

donde brota la vida.

Entre cantos de vida,

entre gorriones golosos,

un poco de selva en el caos.

En la gran metrópolis, flores,

en cualquier época es verde,

exuberante mi pequeño rincón.

Un rincón de vida para revivirme,

un jardín que nadie ve, en mí,

un jardín que está en mi patio,

un rincón secreto de la ciudad.

Entre mis bellos jardines vivo.


---

18-6-2025

In my own nebula,
clouds of gas and dust,
throughout the cosmos of the world.
Floating in my constellation,
in my own black holes.
In my pupils, I hold a universe,
my soul a reflection of a world,
a world small and wondrous.

Among the nebulas of stars,
between my death and my rebirth,
nebulas of the heart.
Soul of nebula.
Only magic dust,
a microcosm,
my world is beautiful.

As beautiful as dust,
dust of stars, of suns,
floating for a moment far away.
Far from my withered body,
my soul reborn, reflecting my chaos.
A world where all is giant,
a chaos where all is minuscule.

A world of my own with rivers of tears,
where I weep stars in my brown eyes.
Among black holes, among constellations,
among my specters, among my clusters,
creating reflections of my own world.

Floating far from my limitations,
seeking the beauty in all,
among the nebulas of the soul,
within the gaze of my God.

Dreaming of the macro chaos,
between my micro chaos, among all,
flying beyond limitations.
In the sideral space of my soul, in my being,
I will enclose that world within a poem,
letting it lift me above the ground.

Let it lift me amidst the dust of life,
I will fly for a moment to distant galaxies,
transforming my stardust into alchemy.
It will turn the reflections of all magic
into a small poem of my universe,
as I dream of conquering limits,
and swimming untethered in the universe.
I will create a poem for you, friend,
a poem of celestial love.

----

PASODOBLE.
An unfinished symphony, this life,
like a pasodoble, at times,
growing each day, and ending.
While this, my life, fills with its musical band,
a music that plays through days and moments,
as the path draws to a close.
And the drums sound,
to bid farewell
to that life,
that gets stuck,
and doesn't want to end,
while pasodobles play on

Música y vinos, Manuel Morales Martínez (1977)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=t6vCfTo8idE&list=RDt6vCfTo8idE&start_radio=1

PERTURBING

Tragedies, those moments,
a perturbing moment,
between life and the other.
Catastrophes of life,
uncertainties,
for some.
In those moments,
on the edge of the abyss,
sometimes there are hard instants,
waves that drown, into nothingness.
Earthquakes that lay waste to everything,
a perturbing moment.
In an instant,
everything changes,
unstable,
fragile.
Moments,
between the good,
between disasters,
everything keeps changing.
With nothing certain,
everything changes,
for the better,
or not.
Instants,
that inspire fear,
between the dread of living.
On those fragile lines,
on life's tightropes.
Suspended by the waves,
on the razor's edge,
life is dangerous.
To live is enigmatic,
precarious lives.
Everything is an adventure,
on the line of living,
between life and the end,
lines that separate.
That life one lives,
sometimes it goes quickly,
between tidal waves,
hard and soft.
Among so many,
moments,
of living,
or of
passing,
without living,
or lived.
Long lives,
or brief days,
perturbing
that life,
who
knows
...

30-VII-2025

My precious velvet donkey,
my dreamt plush toy, pure poetry,
a  cotton skin, so soft.
As tender as a warm cloud,
that dreamlike Platero, pure jet black,
as sweet as an angel's sky.
Oh, to have a Platero in my life,
to walk beside me in green meadows,
to mingle among wildflowers,
to lie down with me, to be my friend.
Oh, to have such a sweet little donkey in paradise,
all beauty and tenderness, love in its purest form,
to caress you and feed you,
ambrosia for my friend.
Together through the world of perfumed earth,
trotting in nature's heaven.
How I wish I could have held you
in my lap,
my little donkey,
together
in that world.
A gentle world,
where all is good,
in the world of my dreams,
where we are all so happy,
where that other Platero and I reside.

---
Mi precioso burrito de terciopelo,
mi peluche soñado, pura poesía,
piel de algodón, tan suave.
Tan tierno como una nube cálida,
ese soñado Platero, puro azabache,
tan dulce como el cielo de ángeles.
Quién tuviera un Platero en mi vida,
que me acompañara en verdes prados,
que se confundiera con flores silvestres,
que se recostara conmigo, que fuera mi amigo.
Quién tuviera un burrito, tan dulce, en el paraíso,
todo bello y tierno, el amor en estado puro,
para acariciarte, y darte de comer,
ambrosía para mi amigo.
Juntos por el mundo de la tierra perfumada,
trotando en ese cielo de la naturaleza.
Ojalá te hubiera podido recostar
conmigo en mi regazo,
con mi burrito,
juntos
en ese mundo.
Un mundo amable,
donde todo es bueno,
en el mundo de mis sueños,
donde todos somos tan felices,
donde vive ese otro Platero y yo.

RAYOS (Rays)
Summer heat, in the light,
discovering seduction.
Transformed into rays,
riding on light.
Sparkling.
Reverie.

The art of loving,
in our waves.
On summer afternoons,
attractive, ignited.
Through love,
waves of pleasure.

Submerged in the water,
discovering skin.
Delighting,
floating.
On wind's sailboats,
in flower pools.
Glories,
pleasure.

Resting from life,
being as we are.
Truly,
stars,
lunatics.
Uninhibited.

Shining with the sun,
in unadulterated life.
Sunny,
silvery,
golden.
Sublime.

In life's wind,
among the mountains,
on the blue sea.
Resting,
sensual.
Calm.
Open.
To pleasure.
Relaxed.

Open,
to love,
in the sea,
of the sky.

---
Calor en el verano, en la luz,

descubriendo la seducción.

Reconvertidos en rayos,

cabalgando en luz.

Chisporroteando

Ensoñación.

El arte de amar,

en nuestras olas.

En las tardes del verano,

atractivos, encendidos.

A través del amor,

olas de placer.

Sumergidos en el agua,

descubriendo las pieles.

Gozando,

flotando.

En veleros del viento,

en albercas de flores.

Glorias,

placer.

Descansando de la vida,

siendo como somos.

Realmente,

estrellas,

lunáticos.

desinhibidos.

Brillando con el sol,

en la vida sin tinturas.

Soleados,

plateados,

dorados.

Sublimes.

En el viento de la vida,

entre las montañas,

en el mar azul.

Descansando,

sensuales.

calmados

abiertos

al placer.

relajados.

Abiertos,

al amor,

en el mar,

del cielo.



--

14-6-2025

Suspended Air
Between nebulas, suspended,
air among the senses,
poems of water.

Among fish,
in that distant sea,
among the bubbles of the dive.

Between the moon and the sun,
the salt and the water,
verses.

Poems of waves,
in the silence the sea roars.

Between the seashells, and the sands,
among the currents float unwritten poems.

In that distant world, where life is born and dies endlessly,
among waves there are poems that move at their own pace.

Incredible poems to write about life,
that life that is born and dies.

Suspended air,
among waters,
alive.

Bubbles,
salt and sea of life.
---
Entre las nebulosas, suspendidas,

aire entre los sentidos,

poemas de agua.

Entre peces,

en ese mar lejano,

entre burbujas del buceo.

Entre la luna y el sol,

la sal y el agua,

versos.

Poemas de ondas,

en el silencio ruge el mar.

Entre las caracolas, y las arenas,

entre las corrientes flotan poemas no escritos.

En ese mundo lejano, donde la vida nace y muere sin fin,

entre olas hay poemas que se mueven a su aire.

Poemas increíbles por escribir de la vida,

esa vida que nace y muere.

Aire suspendido,

entre aguas,

vivas.

Burbujas,

sal y mar de vida.

The Poem

"Life is the true poem"

July 18, 2025.

A gaze from the sixth sense,
to seek that poem, "The Poem."
That poem that is always there,
to dive into life searching.
Where life is the only poem,
that poem that holds everything.
Where everything is, to see,
to feel, that it unveils itself,
in pieces for life.
In pieces searching,
for that ideal poem.
Reflections of life,
that are just,
there in everything.
Unfurled,
pieces,
parts,
souls,
poet.
In that,
which is,
something,
more.
You,
and
...

My words will poison you,
with toxins, venoms, and vaccines,
my thoughts and words will pierce.
Unknowing, I'll pass that virus to you,
that virus from my Venus, toxic,
contaminated by me.
In the power of my verses,
those that brand their mark on you.
You don't know, my poems infest,
I'll flood you with my sweet desires,
those that fly for all.
That toxin which is love,
forbidden love,
luminous love,
simple love,
verses laced with love.
I'll infect you with my love,
that love which today is venom,
I'll sway you with my indelible trace,
you'll vaccinate yourself and multiply my toxins.
You'll be powerless, once my words are read,
those that will usher in my way of being.
Inevitable, your soul will be infested,
I'll enfold you with my soul,
and you'll be a bit of mine.
That toxic venom of love,
will spread through your brain and soul,
that love forbidden in this age.
Love for art's sake, nothing more,
seduced by love,
love of letters,
Once my verses are read,
nothing will ever be the same within you.
You'll be inoculated with the word's power,
and I'll fill your current with a bit of me,
and you won't know you'll become a part,
a part of my very self,
in your soul and in your being,
it is my poison.
---
TOXINA

Te envenenarán mis palabras,

con toxinas, venenos y vacunas,

mis ideas y palabras traspasarán.

Sin saber, te transmitiré ese virus,

ese virus de mi Venus, tóxico,

contaminado conmigo.

En el poder de mis versos,

esos que te dejan huella en ti.

No lo sabes, mis poemas infestan,

te inundaré de mis deseos dulces,

esos que vuelan para todos.

Ese tóxico que es amor,

amor prohibido,

amor luminoso,

sencillo amor,

versos con amor.

Te contagiaré mi amor,

ese amor que hoy es veneno,

te influiré con mi huella indeleble,

te vacunarás y multiplicarás mis toxinas,

No podrás hacer nada, una vez leídas mis palabras,

esas que te introducirán mi manera de ser.

Inevitable,  tu alma será infestada,

te envolveré con mi alma,

y serás un poco mío.

Ese veneno tóxico del amor,

se difundirá en tu cerebro y alma,

ese amor que está vedado hoy en día.

Amor por amor al arte, sin más,

seducido por el amor,

amor de letras,

Una vez leídos mis versos,

nada volverá a ser lo mismo en ti.

Serás inoculado con el poder de la palabra,

y te llenaré el torrente un poco de mí,

y tú no sabrás que formarás parte,

parte de mí mismo,

en tu alma y en tu ser,

es mi ponzoña.
---
6-VII-2025

Un receso, un descanso, un alto.

Momentos para dedicar a uno,

Esos días para ser perezoso,

para descansar un poco.

Momentos para salir,

para estar tranquilos.

Días para darnos un alto,

días para sumergirnos en paz.

Instantes de felicidad, un descanso.

En el agua, en la montaña, o en sueños,

paremos y tomemos aliento en el camino.

Vacaciones para tomar impulso,

días para pasar tiempo,

tiempo de descanso.

En olas, en ondas.

Ese otro tiempo.

Tiempo sin reglas,

tiempos para cambiar,

esas vacaciones sin tiempo,

momentos de caprichos para uno.

Flotando en el aire, en el agua, o a la sombra,

días de vacaciones para descansar de la vida.

-----   To Die Each Day:
A Pause, a Rest, a Halt
A pause, a rest, a halt.
Moments just for us,
Those days to simply be lazy,
To ease our weary souls.
Moments for stepping out,
For quiet serenity.
Days to give ourselves a halt,
Days to deeply dive in peace.
Instants of bliss, a pure release.
In water, on the mountain, or in dreams,
Let's pause and catch our breath along the streams.
Vacations to take flight,
Days for simply passing time,
Time of gentle rest.
On waves, in ripples.
That other time.
Time without rules,
Times for a shift,
Those timeless holidays,
Moments of whim, for one's own gift.
Floating on air, in water, or in shade,
Vacation days, from life's weariness unmade.

Sometimes the body asks for a break,
and stops working, so weary.
Our body protests,
too much to function.

Body that rebels,
asks for a pause,
and screams at us,
overloaded,
exhausted.

And it breaks,
too much
undone,
spent.

That body,
my body,
out of tune,
lost its harmony.

So much marching,
so much work,
and in the end it takes its toll,
too much forcing,
and the machinery stilled.

And in the end we stop,
there is no other choice,
but to pamper with time,
that body with rest,
that took a vacation.

---
VACACIONES

A veces el cuerpo pide un receso,

y deja de funcionar, tan cansado.

Nuestro cuerpo protesta,

demasiado funcionar.

Cuerpo que se rebela,

pide una pausa,

y nos da gritos,

sobrecargados,

extenuados.

Y se rompe,

demasiado

reventado,

agotado

Ese cuerpo,

mi cuerpo,

desafinado,

se desajustó.

Tanto marchar,

tanto trabajar,

y al final se paga,

demasiado forzar,

y la maquinaria rota.

Y al final nos paramos,

no queda más remedio,

que mimar con tiempo,

ese cuerpo con descanso,

que se tomó vacaciones.



---

15-7-2025

VERY SLOWLY
How many years have drifted by,
Time rushes swiftly on.
And I, at times, pause myself,
So very slowly I go,
And in myself get lost.
Very slowly,
I take my time,
To lose myself,
Within my being,
Deep in thought.
I take my pause,
So very softly,
I look and listen,
I lose myself within,
Cease thinking,
And only feel,
That beating heart,
That soul,
That throbs,
That feels,
And I forget,
Of everything, no more.
I turn to me,
And let myself just sleep,
Within those dreams.
Sometimes I read verses,
So very softly,
Just as I like it.
Very calm,
I stop my clock,
And rest.

VOICES

IN VOICES,
VOICES,
Other
Faces
Amidst
WhispeRs
SilenceS,
DYED
WITH SCREAMS.
PLAYING
WITH SCREAMS,
WITH YOU,
GAMES,
in the silence,
of the heart.
Soft whispers,
in that world,
that SCREAMS at us,
DRAGGING,
with force, everything,
voices, STRONG,
THAT WE SCREAM.
Among whispers,
carrying syllables,
On the other side,
of life, you.
Out of sync,
out of tune,
silences.
Musics,
in me,
amidst
exaggerated
MOMENTS
OF FIGHTING,
Wild,
decelerated,
exorbitant,
silences.
Amidst
SCreams­,
that roar,
playing,
with letters,
syllables and you.
CRunching,
scratching,
everything,
between
the silence,
and the noise,
of the world.
HEART
That SCREAMS,
SCREAMS,
LET US SCREAM,
in the silence,
of a city,
NOISY,
THAT CRUNCHES,
that carries us,
in waves,
exaggerated,
in me, in you.
Let
everything,
be noise,
and when
everything explodes,
let's hear the silence,
that silence that EXPLODES,
and makes us HEAR THE HEART,
cleared of life's noise.
And if you want to cry in silence,
let the HEART SCREAM,
SCREAMS OF THE SOUL,
among consonants,
that drag us,
in the exorbitant,
world without compass.
Without rules, without norms,
a moment to live.
Far from the conventional,
CREATING SCREAMS
IN THE silence,
in me,
in you
silences,
that SCREAM,
THAT CLAMOR,
to rest,
that your soul,
that my soul.
Screams,
in everyone,
that no one
hears
deaf,
Listen,
YOUR
rhythm,
that beats,
cycles,
waves,
complaints,
whispers,
of the being,
that
which
screams,
and cries,
or sings,
in silence.
If you don't like it,
I don't care,
I'll scream!!!!
with screams,
in silence,
OR ALOUD!
SSSSS,
SSS.
SCREAMING
whispers
...

WE, THE LOSERS
We, who never win,
who lost all battles.
Failures, forgotten, losers,
lives wasted for nothing.

Those lives that never reached their peak,
fallen into oblivion, without triumphs in life.
Masterpieces of life that were lost,
on the losing side, anonymous, gray.

Lost along the way, masterful,
without a chance to celebrate anything.
So many lives we didn't reach,
and the dust carried everything away,
forgotten failures.

Losers,
that's who we are,
we,
the immense
majority.

NOSTROS, PERDEDORES

Nosotros, los que nunca ganamos,

los que perdimos todas las batallas.

Fracasados, olvidados, perdedores,

vidas que se malograron para nada.

Esas vidas que no llegaron a su cima,

caídos en el olvido, sin triunfos en vida.

Obras maestras de vida que se perdieron,

en el bando perdedor, anónimos, grises.

Perdidos por el camino, magistrales,

sin oportunidad de celebrar nada.

Tantas vidas que no llegamos,

y el polvo se lo llevo todo,

fracasos olvidados.

Perdedores

esos somos,

nosotros,

inmensa

mayoría

---
https://www.poemas-del-alma.com/blog/mostrar-poema-784308

WHISPERS
Seconds that drag in the night,
seconds that pass without knowing.
Stretching the seconds,
into minutes.
In the night.
In that time,
to refresh oneself.
Among the stars,
in the soul's silence,
amidst soft music.
Time to forget,
to finally come out,
within oneself,
forgetting everything.
Seconds to go,
to come to oneself.
One's moment,
to become absorbed,
to be oneself.
To forget the hustle and bustle,
to immerse oneself in the self,
to refresh ideas,
and be within oneself,
letting seconds pass,
stretching life.
Lengthening seconds,
converting seconds,
into minutes that slip away,
disregarding the hours.
Whispers of the seconds,
to convert life
into slow poems,
that float,
in the air.

28-VII-2025

---
Sunset Lounge 2025 | Smooth Sax & Deep House Chill Mix • 2-Hour Slow BPM

www.youtube.com/watch?v=i8AQn9Wbu7k&list=RDi8AQn9Wbu7k&start_radio=1

Wounded bird,
broken wings,
I cannot,
I no longer know
how to rise.
A shattered dream.

Poor bird,
flightless,
a failure.
Dreams
in a nosedive,
into harsh reality.
Shattered,
crashed
plumage.

All broken,
I dreamed of flight,
and couldn't.
My body
is heavy.
I plunged,
I fell from grace;
I no longer know how to fly.

So much dreaming,
only to land
unwillingly.
And my dreams
have flown away.
I moved my hands,
and saw reality:
I was no angel.

I was no longer a child,
and everything hurt.
I wanted to be better,
but I'm not;
I corrupted myself.
And I was just me,
a poor soul
who flapped
in my dreams,
a loser
in my life,
only disaster.

Consumed
beyond remedy,
I reached the end,
landed on earth,
dreams undone.
Neither angel, nor good,
nor child, just an old man
who never learned to fly.
Hope took flight.

Carlos Alberto Bustillos López
Copyleft