Hola, maravillosa comunidad de Literatos. Espero que estén teniendo un maravilloso fin de semana y que les guste mi próxima publicación.
El cielo se derrama
sobre la yerba seca.
Van creciendo los brotes
de las nuevas promesas.
Van naciendo de a poco,
casi indistintamente,
y van mostrando colores
cada vez más ardientes.
Se muestran de a poquito,
como un sueño, y la paz
va inundando el gran valle
con destellos a la par.
Crecen tan dulcemente,
no hay nada más.
Quizás algo prohibido en la calma
que regalan al brotar.
English version
Hello, wonderful Literatos community. I hope you're having a marvelous weekend and that you enjoy my next post.
The sky spills
over the dry grass.
Little sprouts are growing,
new promises at last.
They’re born little by little,
almost imperceptibly,
showing colors
burning brilliantly.
They reveal themselves softly,
like a dream, while peace
floods the wide valley
with shimmering release.
They grow so sweetly—
nothing else remains.
Perhaps something forbidden in the calm
they gift when they awake.
I like the plasticity of your poetry. I have been recreating each image with clarity. That is part of the magic of the writer. To touch the doors of the soul. To say with words the unspeakable for most. It is also very sensual. Verses with a necessary freshness in these times. A small oasis of pure water to drink, among so much empty text.
Are you Cuban? No wonder, you're born to write. Lots of talent to show. Keep writing, what province are you from?
Thank you so much. Your kind words have brought me great joy—knowing you liked it means a lot to me. I’m from Holguín, and I love writing. I wish I could dedicate more time to it. Greetings from Cuba!
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