domingo, 27 de febrero de 2022

You ll have to sit on the floor

 Our friends have bought a house



and they ve just moved in




they said Please come to see us



And stay for the weekend




we did not know the street




we had to ask the way




we did not have any money





so we had to walk all day.







Hello, it s nice to see you



you must come again





it is not very confortable




we ve just moved in.





they said Hello its nice to see you




when they opened the  door






there are not any chairs





So you ll have to sit on the floor




we ll have to drink it black




there is not any cream




you ll have to eat some biscuits





there is not any bread




and you ll have to sleep on the floor






we havent got a bed.

sábado, 26 de febrero de 2022

A song.-

 We havent had a holiday

we have been working hard in town

Shall we pack our bags

And leave right now

Shall we pack our bags

and leave risght now ?




Shall I go to the station


and buy tickets for the train?


Or shall I phone the airport


And book seats on a plane?


Shall we go and never come home again?







Shall we stay in the mountains



In a house among the trees?




Or shall I go and telephone



a hotel by the sea ?



Yes, I llaskfor the best room if it is free



will you come with me ?


tiovivo

 Me descendió el amor desde los ojos

y se me fue a pasear por tus caderas

y me encontré bebiendote los labios

en el complice instante de la siesta

Un jazmín chamuscandose en tu pecho

nos impregnaba de la primavera

y me aterciopelaba los sentidos

la piel de tus mejillas de uva fresca

tenas la mirada cristalina

como suelen tenerlas las muñecas

una risa rimada y cadenciosa

copiada del murmullo de la acequia

en los diez dedos versos de tus manos

y las sombras más densas de las sombras

entretejiéndote la cabellera

la tarde se hizo noche en tus brazos

andaba el duende del amor de fiesta

y en aquel carrusel apasionado

nuestros nombres unidos, daban vueltas.




Extraido del libro Proyecto de vida . Concurso nacional de poesía


2001-

viernes, 25 de febrero de 2022

Grito final

 ¿Cuál ha de ser el último poema

ese canto postrero, concebido

antes de que las huestes del olvido

callen la voz y borren e squema ?




¿de qué misterios tratará su tema ?

¿ qué musa disctará su contenido?

¿Será la queja del juglar herido ?

¿tendrá la concisión del anatema ?


El poema final, desconocido


que sumará su luz a la diadema

 de versos que forman el emblema




será el póstumo grito proferido


y sorprendente concreción suprema

será tal vez. o ya, tal vez ha sido.





Poema sacado del libro Proyecto de vida - primer concurso nacional de poesía .año 2001-

jueves, 17 de febrero de 2022

Elegía en

 Roja es la sangre del joven soldado

Orgullo, lealtad y coraje en sus acciones 

Jinetas de fuego y armas asesinas lleva

ofrece a la Patria su vida, sin concesiones.



Y parte valeroso hacia la guerra




Negra e intensa es la pena de sus padres

Estéril la espera de su feliz retorno

gritos y ayes surgen del fragor de la batalla

ruda lucha cruenta, vana triste entorno

osculo de muerte, inutilmente su vida se apaga.

The leaves were falling

 We were walking through the park

the sky was getting dark

and the lights in the streets were shining through the rain

I was looking at the sky

I was trying not to cry

I was takimg you to the station for you train.




It was six oclockon a rainy autumn evening

It was six o clock at the end of an autumn day

The leaves were falling

The night was falling

the leaves were brown

the rain was silver

and the sky was grey.



The air was getting cold

the day was getting old

It was getting old

It was getting late and everyone was going home

I was looking in your eyes

I was saying good bye

You were going away and leaving me alone.

I wrote a letter to you

 Write me a letter

write a letter to me

not to Jhon not to Tom

Not to Fred or Nick or Jim

But to me, only me just me



I wrote you a letter

I wrote a letter to you


Not to Jhon, not to Tom

Not to Fred or Nick or Jim

But to you, only you, just you



-You sent me a letter

-I sent a letter just to you

And the one that I sent

Was the one in wich I said

I love you, not Fred


- Or Tom, or Nick or Jim?

-No. you

-Only me?

-Just you.

lunes, 14 de febrero de 2022

A song. Where can I find Mr Green ?

 I m walking down a street

Im looking for Number 10

 I was coming from the park

When I lost my way

 I ve asked a lot of people

And I ll have to ask again

Nobody knows Number 10

 Now I ve asked once again

And I ve found number 10

Its the tallest building

Ive ever seen

Where can I find Mr Green ?

Mr Green ? Seventh floor

Room number 24

Im walking down a corridor

Im looking for Room 24

I was looking for the lift

When I lost my way

I ll have to ask some more


Yes, I ll have to ask some more

Nobody knows Room 24

Now I ve asked once  more

And I ve found Room 24

Is Mr Green about?

No he, s out.

domingo, 13 de febrero de 2022

Antologia

 Si el tiempo

aleja sus ojos

si su risa no está 

y no escuchamos su llanto 


En el fuego de su memoria se calientan todas las manos

unas flotan a la deriva

en aguas malolientes

otras forman una red entrelazadas

para que la vida no se escape.

Antología

 Un día

Un día con gusto a sangre

a cenizas desparramadas

a alcoholes derramados

sobre pieles marchitas


Hay fantasmas de infiernos no redimidos

recorriendo las calles como castigos

hay un sol seco lleno de odio

que atormenta los silencios y las voces

hay rostro de piedra

eternamente maldecidos


Hay recuerdos clavados en mi memoria

como cruces antiguas

en un cementerio abandonado

como troncos de hogueras

que inmolaron a herejes insolentes.


Antologia.

 Fue entonces.-


Cuando escuché la voz de los frutales

doblados por el viento

una extraña ternura nació en mí

salió de mí

y se me enredó en los dedos

Fue entonces que lloré

con tana fuerza

de tal modo lloré

con tanta furia

que los jardines todos comprendimos


y se abrieron sus flores en la lluvia

Los destinos cruzados se descruzan

al escuchar la voz de los que esperan

el viento se calmó Cesó la lluvia

y allí estabas

sobre los viejos puentes de madera

Todo lo que queda tibio

bajo la humana apariencia de mi deshumanizada piel

no es más que el resto

de los restos que fui sumando

todo cuanto espero no val lo suficiente

los recuerdos , las vidas

se agolpan frente a mi puerta

reclamando la perenne deuda que persiguen mis zapatos

nada llega hoy a sorprender mis ojos

no hay caricias en los surcos de mis manos

Otoños, inviernos

y solo una pared como sostén en mis huesos

solo un gran punto de silencio

dividiendo mi palabra

los espacios y las sombras

trascienden de mi mente hasta mi mente 

despierto por las noches languideciendo sueños 

llego aquí

para escuchar el dolor de la nada

sostengo entre las piernas la humedad de unos labios

una plegaria es hoy blasfemia en mi boca

tres lágrimas secas

aún perforan mi costado

y la seca sangre de la vieja herida

de vez en cuando pare un grito en mi garganta

Siento tanto

que todo el tiempo viene a pertenecerme 

ya no quedan ganas solo tierra suma y resto

en las garras que sostienen mi cara.

Antologia.

 Hoy.-


Quiero  escribir una poesia arrugada

con manchas de vino o de sopa

o de bizcochitos con grasa.

Con huellas digitales 

llenas de dudas

llena de temores

tropezada

una y mil veces en el ladrillo roto

Sucia de puchos apagados

y de palomas liberadas

con la muerte a la vuelta de la esquina con baldíos y yuyos

con zanjones y sapos 

desacralizada

Una poesia que sea vida

que caiga y se levante

que se levante y caiga

y que pague impuestos !

El único que falta

Al derecho a soñar

a desbordar el alma 

a la palabra.

viernes, 11 de febrero de 2022

If I go back

 The summer is almost over

time goes so fast

And Im thinking of a summer in the past

I was living in a town

A long way from here

the summer was beautiful that year



If I go back

will the town still look the same


if I walk down the street


will you call out my name?

will I hear your voice?

will I see your face again?



I used to walk every morning to the little town square

And one sunny morning, you were sitting there 


And one sunny morning you were sitting there

and the sun was shining on your hair

we were together all that summer

with the sun in our eyes


the sunlight filled the streets


and the summer filled the sky.

we ll do the work tomorrow

 Its a working day

but it s a sunny day


and on a sunny day

we just can t stay

where shall we go


I know

we wont stay al work

the summer goes too fast

Ill take you to the park

And we ll walk across the grass

well sit and watch the children play

and we ll do the work tomorrow

or another day


We ll sit on the grass

and well sleep in the sun


we ll walk by the river


and well smile at everyone


we ll pick lots of flowers along the way 


and we ll do the work tomorrow

or another day.


I ll sing you songs


and I ll play my guitar


we ll spend the whole evening

looking up the stars

we ll go to sleep and dream about today

and we ll do the work tomorrow


or another day

yes, we ll do the work tomorow.

or another day.

If you dont come with me

 It s Saturday tomorrow and the whole days s free


I wont be in town Ill be by the sea


Its Saturday tomorrow and Ill be the sea


But I wont be happy if you dont come with me


we ll start very early if we wake up in time


we ll take an unmrella if the weather isnt fine


we ll start very early if  we wake up in time


we ll get there by eleven, if we leave 

here at half past nine


if we cant go by bus, well go by train

if there arent any trains well get there just the same


if there arent any trains well go by plane


we ll get there someshow

even if we have to walk all day.

Everybody used to know her name

 She used to be famous

we used to see her on tv

she used to ride in a beautiful car

with a chauffeur at the wheel

people used to travel miles

Photographers used to smile

we used to see her picture in the papers

and everybody used to know her name

lots of people used to send her flowers 


but it couldnt last for ever 

cos nothing lasts for ever

and nothing stays the same

she used to be a queen 

of the cinema screen

we used to see her photograph

on the covers of magazines


all the porters  at the station


used to run to take her case


but now she walks down the street


and no one knows her face 

she used to be a queen


of the cinema screen


but nothing lasts for ever


no nothing lasts for ever


and nothing stays the same.