Translucent Line

In my humble amazement, I write these poor words,
which pretend to be a poem,
to a marvel of creation Divine.
Dear reader, forgive me for being a simpleton.


Photo: Amey Kandalgaonkar | 500px

Hyaline glare that timid approaches,
From Orient breath demarcating
Conjugating with Bandodeón it broaches

In this order first appearing,
Order that without
The step would not follow the fleeing

Step that with contrapuntal harmony
Drives away the shroud’s thicket,
Master of prisoner Morpheus
And prey to her own prisoner.

The shroud, sensual night captivating,
For hasty pleasure longing
Thus the error prone perfumer,
Grossly thicket dominating.

The stars, mouths scintillating,
Believing them far away, the night
Their Copernic forms she deforming
She imbibing, she fooling

How thus, line, the night blinds?
How thus, line, the night sustains?

Dehydrated by wine
The cubs laid ignoring
The lions no longer roaring
All in their beds, pleased devoting.

Thus the night, lorded over everything
Thus the night, made everyone sleeping
The stars of their science deformed
Treacherous astrology becoming.

Yesterday, that of Caro’s sunset 
I remembered,
Not having forgotten
The dying bull vermillion,
Of sentiment feline,
With distant sight observing
And with the same profound
maroon eyes
inside looking.

Yesterday I remembered the silence
That the sunset was pronouncing

Today, the silicium presents himself,
Precise clarity awaited 
Measured by universe pulsating
Happiness — of the forms,
Of the incipient thicket, 
much sadness

Faithfully announce, line, since night ignores
For being obscure, the night
Alluring and Sensual itself presumes
And imprisoned the stars she pretenses 

Thus the glare disrupts 
with his diaphanous form
A thousand colors he announces
A thousand ageless he presents

Line, clear milonguero flare,
Astute pilgrim companion.
I dedicate myself Now,
          to plow under
and about renewed horizon

If not now, when?
Since once awoken
			Of profit is
“Because earlier risers God assists!”
To see how he goes disarming,
First the glare, with compass portent
The gross perfumer incliner:

       Oh! ¡Prism! – fence

 Polyphonic Song! –  boring tone

   Jubilant birds! – cubs sedated

      Everything was gathering
      Everything was perceiving

The triumphant colors forth were coming

       and the compass ordering

    the juvenile flowers attracting

           dressing it all

      a thousand forms becoming

                in this

        refreshing and tranquil

           Shinning morning.

Poem composed by David Ramírez

Dedicated to my teacher José Faur

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