She left me...

She left me to be 

with the mountains and the hillsides, 

that used to swing her hips

She left to me to be

a swimmer in the unending ocean,

that used to name her laugh

She left to travel,

between the artificial borders,

that used to make her dream

She left me to gently shove, 

the boulders and the gravel, 

that used to inspire her fight

She left to learn, 

from the hugs of wind behind her, 

the lessons she used to live

She left me to dance the rhythm of her songs,

the grains of golden sand stuck between my toes, as I follow 

the paths she used to cross

She left me her smell, in every sun setting sea I see;

so it is true after all that she did not leave me at all. 

Bruselas

Han visto llover,
desde antes que las fuentes;
los ladrillos grises se esconden
entre la dorada plaza.



Los brazos de esta ciudad
acogen entre murales
las tiendas de chocolate,
alta costura del cacao,
grandeza elegante
sumada a la infancia interminable
de un hombre rubio, con corazón de niño;
Cada paso es alegre,
cada idioma célebre

Hace cabriolas, la cumbre de cada nacionalidad
perseguida por su instinto,
de tulipan escondido
entre la niebla
imperdonable de su
calmada personalidad.

Brussels

They have seen rain
since before the fountains-
the grey bricks hide
in the golden plaza.



The arms of this city,
embrace between murals,
haute cocoa couture,
elegant grandeur
added to the unending childhood
of a blonde man, with a boy's heart;
Each step is joyful,
each language notorious

Prancing to the summit of each nationality
chased by its instinct,
of tulip,
hidden between the unforgiving
fog
of its laid-back personality.

Vistas

Lugares que fueron hogares 

Y jamás volverán 

Perdidos entre las nubes que taparon sus tejados,

se evaporaron hacia el recuerdo de

Terrazas bajo un sol, primaveral- De pronto,

una nueva terraza, de un sexto piso con panorama de mi ciudad;

Pienso en todas aquellas

albergando los primeros días 

de cada año, sonriendo a la vida y a su cálida temperatura;

La mirada de un lago apacible se difumina

Con un jardín algo abandonado, donde jugaba a ser la madre 

de muñecos de un mismo nombre, y su padre una perrita 

que hizo de todas esas escenas un dibujo de nostalgia; 

Aparecen entre los balcones de hoy, las risas de estudiantes de ayer, 

en un parque común, donde escapábamos los duros inviernos del norte,

cuando tras larga lucha la nieve cedía su paso, 

a las flores, consiguiendo volver. 

Como yo vuelvo, a cada casa, de cada suburbio de mi historia

con las ventanas de cada azotea

abiertas al viento

Sights

Sites that once were homes
and will never return
Lost between the clouds that covered their roofs,
they evaporate towards the memory of
Terraces under a spring sun- Suddenly,
a new patio, of a sixth floor terrace with views of my city;
Thinking of all those
sheltering the first days
of each year, smiling towards life and its clement temperature,
The gaze of a placid lake blurs
with a garden, somewhat abandoned, where I played mother
to dolls of a same name, and their father a dog
who made of these scenes a drawing of nostalgia;
Between today's balconies, appear the laughs of yesterdays' students,
in a communal park, where we escaped the north's harsh winters,
when after a long fight the snow would cede her step,
to the flowers, accomplishing their return.

Like I return, to each home, of each suburb in my story
with the windows of each rooftop,
opened to the wind

Abuela- Amiga y Madre de Todos

No hay palabras que hagan justicia a tu sonrisa,
   de dientes ligeramente torcidos hacia el sol.

No hay abrazos adecuados para demostrar tu cariño,
   de corazón indomable, humilde y sincero.

No hay libros, ni autores, que compitan con tus historias,
    tus innumerables cuentos relatados con elocuencia y humor, al borde de tu orilla,
    en las esquinas de la cama de nuestra infancia ó entre tus acogedoras
    comidas, meriendas y cenas.

No hay ley científica que explique tu fuerza,
   batallando hasta el último atardecer por el final feliz de todos.

No hay canción que suene como las campanas de tu voz,
   entonando por encima de la tristeza, o la misa, y alegrando la cena de cualquier niño.

No hay tamaño conocido para definir tu fé,
    hacia un Dios que has llevado, trotando entre tu mar y tu monte, al alma de cada uno.

No hay rosas suficientes- sin espinas claramente- para lucir con sus colores,
    toda la vida que has otorgado a esta familia
    y a tu fiel compañero de ojos claros.

No hay nadie que sepa vivir sin ti,
    por eso seguimos cada paso- al son de tu alegre risa de pilla y tu imborrable memoria-
    andando juntos, con tus tobillos de cabra,
    hacia el rayo verde.

Grandma - Friend and Mom to All

There are no words that do justice to your smile,
    of teeth slightly tilted towards the sun.

There are no adequate embraces to demonstrate your tenderness,
    wrapped in your indomable, humble and honest heart.

There are no books, or authors, to compete with your stories,
    your innumerable tales, spoken with eloquence and humor, at the edge of your shore,
    on the corners of our childhood bed, or between your homely lunches, snacks, and dinners.

There is no scientific law to explain your strength,
    battling until the last sunset for everyone's happy ending.

There is no song that rings like the bells of your voice,
    intoning atop the sadness, or the congregation, and brightening any child's dinnertime.

There is no known size to define your faith,
    towards a God that you have taken, trotting between your ocean and your hill,
    to the soul of each person.

There are not enough roses- without spines of course- to illuminate with their colors,
    all the life that your have granted this family
    and your loyal, clear eyed companion.

There is no one who knows how to live without you,
    that is why we continue each step- to the rhythm of your playful laughter
    and your indelible memory-walking together, with your small goat ankles,
    towards the radiant green flash.