ENGLISH VERSION (click here!)
Among distant winds that no one touches,
It swayed its wings across the ground,
The passive specter of a mad soul,
Whose sublime goal was to break the sky.
And I saw it pass, as anguish passes
Through the cruel underground of a heart,
Full of cold and withered disillusionments
That slowly destroyed its passion.
Though I wasn't the one, I pursued it
Because I wanted to be someone I'm not,
I wanted it to light my mind with things I'd never seen,
I wanted it to make me forget how sad I am.
I couldn't catch up either, its flight was vast,
Desperate, I cried: "I am old, and mad for wanting you,
I’ve traveled the universe to reach you and I’m not free,"
And sobbing sadly, it said to me: "Neither am I."
Thank you for reading my poems.
The poet without fountain pen.
Entre vientos lejanos que nadie toca
contoneaba sus alas por el suelo
el espectro pasivo de un alma loca
cuyo objetivo sublime era romper el cielo
Y yo la vi pasar, como pasa la angustia
por el subterráneo cruel de un corazón
lleno de desilusiones frías y mustias
que iban destrozando poco a poco su pasión.
Aunque no era el indicado, la perseguí
porque quería ser alguien que no soy,
quería que ilumine mi mente de cosas que no vi,
quería que me haga olvidar lo triste que estoy.
Tampoco pude alcanzarla, su vuelo era de gran calibre
desesperado grite: "Estoy viejo, y por tenerte estoy loco,
he recorrido el universo por alcanzarte y no soy libre "
y ella sollozando de triste me dijo : "yo tampoco".
Gracias por leerme.
El poeta sin pluma
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