En el medio del océano

Escucho "litle village" bajo la foto de niños y jóvenes del pueblo de mi niñez, del pueblo donde sueño una paz que se destejé en los vaivenes de las olas que me mecen, exasperan mi ya de por si, poco sabias reacciones.

Van Morrison, si pudiera viajar el próximo jueves a Dublin, uniría el mundo que se revela contra las mentiras cocinadas para ser escuchadas entre las bilis de lo inmediato, con tu voz que despierta mi ansia de abrazo de lo auténtico que encontré en aquella plaza, llena de gente que no se puede permitir un descanso, de aquella otra gente refugiada de los vientos del Oeste, que escuchan entre medias de los ventarrales los imperceptibles susurros de  verdades no fácilmente audibles.

Danzaría, allí, sobre el rio Liffey, bajo el estruendo de ese saxo que me guia como la mano imposible de los momentos desválidos. Ese corazón musical bombea los ritmos donde busco romper límites de mi avejentado cuerpo, para soñar piruetas luminosas, saltos por entre los colores de  vidas vividas y por vivir, lanzamientos que me acerquen a aquellos de los que me aleje, aunque sea para no negar lo importante que ellos fueron.

Van Morrison, jueves, Dublin, Sweny Chemisty, apoyo a quienes defienden la necesidad de ser veraz en una escuela pública. Van Morrison, Leopoldo Bloom, jugador- encantador de palabras, desbrozador de quienes intoxican con las palabras tétricas por bellas de artificios manejados. James Joyce mago maravilloso, te busco para encontrar las esencias, aquí, que nos venden el vino aguado

tu sabes que yo corro

Y busco los colores, para beberlos
piso las tierras, que ahora agarran
miro los cielos, que enloquecen paletas
escucho silencios, insaciable palanchin

No encontré paciencia a las palabras
tu elaboras la vida, encontrada en botes
atiendes sus esencias que se te revelan
buscando significados enloquecidos, callo

Pero, entrégate a los pasos, que abran espacios
besa el tiempo que dedicas al cuerpo
para equilibrar el lienzo en el que te contemplamos

Amamos lo que nos presentas paciente
pero anhelamos tu caminar alcalaino
somos un poco más en tú ser,  ¿lo sientes?

Love the ground

I didn't like the hunting and the fishing, but I cannot talk about people who have loved their childhood and youth anchored in their feeling towards parents, family and special friends of those times that they will remind forever.

They love hunting and fishing because they are also another part of country's spirit. I haven't lived their childhood games, their diet that, in those times, had limits that we cannot know today, althought, step by step, we're knowing in these fiddle periods where we must pay the prize the global world of the economy power.

I've the childhood image of a small stream, where my father and my fish were going fishing crayfish, those spanish crayfish, later, disappeared. Yesterday, I heart the last social action of a friends, was the same: I love every country that I'm knowing but these persons are moored to their grounds lived, every second when they sang, hide from parents, or looked for food or an special food.

These bit period, the last summer was his confirmation of his marriage with those grounds, wind, and sounds that he had never forgotten.

Travelling around the world, but we're quiet with these persons, they have all voices, sounds, smells of theirs lands; when you touch their hands, you feel all furrows of their lives worked. Then, they looked at a hidden horizon, in the middle of their hard lives.

We growed with their dances in their village's places

I'm alarmed,

I've decided to stop today: I was doing streching near a lake when I've seen that people was walking with the head. I've kept look at it again at again and then I've understood that my situation was very bad, or maybe the world had decided some questions without me. I'm going further, yesterday, a bird told me that I should flight every day, because this question was very easy. I looked at it, a time, two time, three time, I was waiting a camera, a sunrise but not; this crazy bird liked decided my life but this stupid animal didn't understand anything; I've asked myself if it had tried to flight lying face up.

Finally, I've decided to continue my way, althought it wasn't easy to crash heads; they sound hollow and It isn't  happy to recognize that, maybe, my head haven't a lot of ideas.

If this stupid flying stopped sometime (it loved to show itself) and it would think more maybe have been able to help us. No, it is impossible the mirror about it stupidity was broken a lot of time ago and only it is listening to it flatterer that its need its leftovers.

I should recognize that was nice to walk my head but when I tried to think with my feet, I stumbled

Paseando La Riba

Por aquel pueblo, que ya mayor descubrí,
encuentro sudores, carreras, pasiones;
sin derecho a vivir los lazos que os unieron
comí sus frutos, en los casuales encuentros

Ahora, que vuestro destino, se adelanta al mío
vuela mi corazón, acercándose al paterno lar
viendo la magia fluvial desandada cual ser añorado
saladas tierras, en balcones y cielos oteadas

Cercana casa, en espacio y por seres habitadas
entrar buscaba, para recibir caricias en la Riba
Poyatos, para cuitas paternales, calladas
destapa las ansias de otros, huecas voces oídas

Miré ayer tu casa, en nuestro barrio, ya partías
imaginé juegos, secretos, amigos abrazados
cumpliste, aunque añoren, sueños que caminan
trazan vida , Riba y Colonia, abiertos mundos.

Y sois vosotros en quienes me sentí querido
abono, al adulto tiempo ya consciente
de pasear labrando, para aceptar junios

eh! listen to me

he had been listening to for three year that old song about a crazy love with a foreigner language. Finally, a day, when he thought that his level was good, he listened to Pinball Wizard, the Who, this was a awful experience in his life and he decided begin another time, now  he will study the new situation about Real Madrid and his traineur, Mourinho.

Would learn he English language with this subject?. No, but he could speak about those things that he had loved a lot of.

When he started his speech, a bicycleman arrived very fast and he asked about the name of that tree. I didn't knew as explain this problematic situation. The new name of tree was..........Mourinho; Why, The last year, a new and young tree had grown very fast near it. From this time, our tree had lost the sun and from this time, his, now, unhappy branches was looking for the shadows, nor the fertile ground, now he didn't liked looking for the sun. Its leafs were sads and without colour.

Sometimes, these branches encircled small fleurs, these small specimens thought that action was to protect its but, too late, its understood that was to extract its energies and beauty.

That tree would had had the opportunity to develop other way, but it would liked that if that dazzled tree will open its branches toward the sundown, smaller but sun, at least

it was an infinite time

Where she liked that anything will change. The friend's meeting was every year, so happy that she dreamed with that special day: food, sport, children. A day, she heard that her best friend had changed his feelings, he came out to other country; she, who dreamed those eternals afternoon with him, changed her habits, althought her heart was crying, she saw other sundown, other trees in autumn but the colors, the dance, now, was different. Now, 30 years later. She had driven her life towards a quiet work to live wonderful and precticted days.

Those sunrises had scratched another time her recognizable house and ways but now she, in the cold street, knew that she would have a lot off colleagues. There, they will drawn a new time. full of uncertainty and hard days but also full of her. She was living