Today is Sunday, and I’m thinking about projects and possibilities. I’d like exposing projects, activities and ideas, in an original way.
I write literature, too, mainly poetry. I have some poems, and a book, that I’d like to publish, translating it to English.
In this way, I discover interesting texts. I read writers that show the rich variety of modern literature in English.
Anyway, I’m trying to get more complexity, and more fluidity, though my texts are very simple, they looking for music and rhythm. For example, I like the sound of the double “R” in Spanish, because in the Greek language, and English, too, “R” has another sound, more subtle than the strongly sound of Spanish language.
POCKETS WITH RUMOR
Tris-tras, your pocket creaking around my fingers,
I have keys, rugged, in the deep rumor
Of the abyss of sweets, dark,
Softly, in the soft tris-tras, and folds
And folds of crumb of crackers of vanilla,
They are in the depth of all of this,
Make me doze, make me dream upon your tangled hair
With a bright sea that I was not seeing,
They make me nod upon your tangled hair
Around my fingers caramels creaking,
These Surprise’s envelopes, there are clips, here
There are crumbs; you will have to shake the coat
If the overcoat is yours, crumbs are yours,
If the overcoat is mine, crumbs are yours, too
They are all yours all yours, don’t mention it
I have got a strange tongue with a taste in palate
There were a little ducks, whirling,
Reflex on the water, there were lights,
In the sky, grasped to them, they make me fall,
They
::::::::make
::::::::::::::::me
::::::::::::::::::::: fall
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::Tris-tras, your pocket
Creaking softly, the wolf now
Among the bushes
Have no fear
Ice textures on the surfaces, crystalline forms on roofs and filaments of pasture.
