Poet’s Note: Looks like I am working faster than death; I translated two poems into English in one day.
Two fists behind a pair of eyes.
The desire for the deepest breaths,
the confirmation of life somewhere in the air.
Sometimes the eyes will light up on that deepest breath.
Wake up from your slumber even if your eyes are asleep
and say that
someone is trying to fool you.
The flaming fists behind the eyes will be the voices of the soul,
which was frozen for a long time.
No time is wasted and despite the insignificance that dressed
those self-pitying bones,
you’ll see, you’ll pick up some lighter small-wings
for the most pleasant flights:
time will not exist there.
The sun now passes through the transparencies
of the moving bus
and a classmate from the old times
gets on the bus.
She looks very different now.
She is beautiful.
Before she was less beautiful,
but now she is really so beautiful
inside her white shirt
her curly hair with shapely curls.
Since our seats are at a distance
and I’m sitting in the back of the bus
I can observe her more calmly;
I find myself inside her curls and inside the sunlight
that pierces them as they twist.
When I get off the bus, a man with a scooter rings
and greets me.
He won’t have more than sixty years
and with his open shirt, smiling and ruthless,
he will continue his walks with his little motorbike.
But you see,
someone like him with such a soul
like the one of the sun
how he is talking now to me,
melting my frozen soul instantly.
A melancholic smile makes its appearance:
These are the kind of images that force me to
deeply capture every detail of their presence
with love and deep melancholy,
within my only expression of happiness.
I wrote this poem when coming back to the island I grew up one September. It was the return after the first year I had lived in Spain and after living inside a camper for many months with someone I used to love. These images were a balsam for my soul, which back then suffered a lot of pain.