En Colón está nevando
La luna ha surgido del mar como Afrodita
En la batalla del Topón
Cayeron los abuelos
Como las tapias de la Calle Real
Ella pasa de largo como un fuego estéril
Y se esconde entre las crines de su infantil Pegaso
La abuela la arrea por un mundo alucinado
Le gusta cazar, chapear, manejar el machete
Es indomable y astuta
Pero justiciera
Es pequeña, frondosa y con largos anhelos
De muchachita las ratas royeron sus nudillos
Y se levanta
Se incorpora al jardín donde solloza un caballero
Su armazón de acero, su corazón de plata
Parecen ansiar su pecho cansado
Ella lo intuye con piedad quieta
Él recuerda que fue la más poderosa
Sus castigos eran duros, su cólera terrible
Tuvo la hegemonía del tapiz de los mares
Hoy apenas vaga como una ola obstinada
Oye al gentilhombre sus historias de viajero
Miran ambos esa luna que fue el misterio de sus noches
Allá en Colón donde ardieron las Ardenas
Y estuvieron a punto de perder París
Su voz brota del piano como Orfeo
Su nombre no se nombra sin tocar la tierra con los dedos
Y besar en ellos las huellas del pasado
Madre, escucha al pobre hombre que regresa del camino
Se ha quitado su armazón y ha sacado la lira
Ensaya unos acordes para volver a Colón
Para transitar la cordillera torva con su luna celada
Escucha como crujen los metales de su aliento
Él ha venido a ti a recorrer las nevadas
A soñar con las mareas donde reinaste
Amortajada con mil cuentas de espinas
Escucha al caballero de armazón gastada
Que regresa de las batallas sin sentido
Donde asoló la vida y prodigó la muerte
Él ha venido a ti
Como yo
A acurrucar su cabeza sobre tu vientre/
Gracias por llegar hasta aquí y leer,
esperamos tu comentario
La imagen de portada es una edición digital propia de una imagen de pixabay y otra también de pixabay
In Columbus it is snowing
The moon has risen from the sea like Aphrodite
In the battle of Topon
The grandfathers fell
Like the walls of Calle Real
She passes by like a sterile fire
And hides in the mane of her childlike Pegasus
Grandma drags her through a hallucinated world
She likes to hunt, to chase, to handle the machete
She is indomitable and cunning
But a vigilante
She's small, leafy and with long yearnings
When she was a little girl the rats gnawed on her knuckles
And she gets up
She enters the garden where a knight sobs
Her steel frame, her silver heart
Seem to yearn for his weary breast
She intuits him with still pity
He remembers she was the mightiest
Her punishments were harsh, her wrath terrible
She had the hegemony of the tapestry of the seas
Today he barely wanders like a stubborn wave
He listens to the gentleman his traveler's stories
They both look at that moon that was the mystery of their nights
Back in Columbus where the Ardennes burned
And they were on the verge of losing Paris
His voice springs from the piano like Orpheus
His name cannot be named without touching the earth with his fingers
And kiss on them the traces of the past
Mother, listen to the poor man returning from the road
He has taken off his frame and taken out his lyre
He rehearses a few chords to return to Colón
To pass through the baleful cordillera with its jealous moon
Listen how the metals of his breath crackle
He has come to you to travel through the snowy mountains
To dream of the tides where you reigned
Shrouded with a thousand beads of thorns
Listen to the knight of worn frame
Who returns from meaningless battles
Where he ravaged life and lavished death
He has come to you
As have I
To nestle his head on your belly/
Thank you for coming here and reading,
we look forward to your comments
The cover image is a digital edition of a pixabay image
and another one from pixabay
Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator
Gracias por llegar hasta aquí y leer,
esperamos tu comentario
La imagen de portada es una edición digital propia de una imagen de pixabay y otra también de pixabay
In Columbus it is snowing
The moon has risen from the sea like Aphrodite
In the battle of Topon
The grandfathers fell
Like the walls of Calle Real
She passes by like a sterile fire
And hides in the mane of her childlike Pegasus
Grandma drags her through a hallucinated world
She likes to hunt, to chase, to handle the machete
She is indomitable and cunning
But a vigilante
She's small, leafy and with long yearnings
When she was a little girl the rats gnawed on her knuckles
And she gets up
She enters the garden where a knight sobs
Her steel frame, her silver heart
Seem to yearn for his weary breast
She intuits him with still pity
He remembers she was the mightiest
Her punishments were harsh, her wrath terrible
She had the hegemony of the tapestry of the seas
Today he barely wanders like a stubborn wave
He listens to the gentleman his traveler's stories
They both look at that moon that was the mystery of their nights
Back in Columbus where the Ardennes burned
And they were on the verge of losing Paris
His voice springs from the piano like Orpheus
His name cannot be named without touching the earth with his fingers
And kiss on them the traces of the past
Mother, listen to the poor man returning from the road
He has taken off his frame and taken out his lyre
He rehearses a few chords to return to Colón
To pass through the baleful cordillera with its jealous moon
Listen how the metals of his breath crackle
He has come to you to travel through the snowy mountains
To dream of the tides where you reigned
Shrouded with a thousand beads of thorns
Listen to the knight of worn frame
Who returns from meaningless battles
Where he ravaged life and lavished death
He has come to you
As have I
To nestle his head on your belly/
Thank you for coming here and reading,
we look forward to your comments
Thank you for coming here and reading,
we look forward to your comments
The cover image is a digital edition of a pixabay image
and another one from pixabayTranslated with www.DeepL.com/Translator