.
.
I do not know if she was happy,
but knew that the world ended on the next block,
every corner of the siesta
I gave her shelter and its ghosts.
My father was so wise like a book, my mother was
the help of my hands, my pillow
was my lover and my enemy, confusing
in summer nights.
I do not know if she was happy, because he feared
,
the shadows of my room, I fenced, had a great villain
eleven years old
and the bag round, but there was a
January 6,
the attic in my grandmother's house,
had a yard full of treasures and a vacant
way to school.
I do not know if she was happy, but enough
a piece of blue in the morning,
a promise in exchange for a note
or escape through the window. Someday
I started having memories
and gave me the keys to my house,
a love letter
closed the door and I was out of childhood.
I do not know if she was happy, but how far
...
do not know if she was happy, but what a pity
.
Juan Carlos Muñiz
I do not know if she was happy,
but knew that the world ended on the next block,
every corner of the siesta
I gave her shelter and its ghosts.
My father was so wise like a book, my mother was
the help of my hands, my pillow
was my lover and my enemy, confusing
in summer nights.
I do not know if she was happy, because he feared
,
the shadows of my room, I fenced, had a great villain
eleven years old
and the bag round, but there was a
January 6,
the attic in my grandmother's house,
had a yard full of treasures and a vacant
way to school.
I do not know if she was happy, but enough
a piece of blue in the morning,
a promise in exchange for a note
or escape through the window. Someday
I started having memories
and gave me the keys to my house,
a love letter
closed the door and I was out of childhood.
I do not know if she was happy, but how far
...
do not know if she was happy, but what a pity
.
Juan Carlos Muñiz
No comments:
Post a Comment