Liebe ist wie ein Glass Malbec:
Es geht nicht darum, dass es uns schmeckt,
Sondern darum, dass wir es lernen, ihn zu schmecken.
The most illogical act would be to profoundly comprehend thy essence and fall not in love with it.
One fact I know is that thou art a precious stone that glitters richer than anything ever seen.
My fixation embellishes therefore that smile of thine, the one I always longue to kiss.
And the one I ought to guard, for it hath eased my daily storms and magnified my sense of life.
Shall thou name me for the task would be my content, and if thou goest for another, it matters not, so long that smile continuous driving joy into my soul.
LA CARTA EN INGLES
THE SINGER FROM THE ETERNAL SPRING
In the land of singers and flowers
He who sang the most was born.
The charm of his voice and the touch of his hand
Took all the noise away from my mind.
His lure always reached a higher pitch
Could always beat my clever wit.
Nothing like the texture of his peel:
Although painful, great to feel.
We used to drive long nights in my car,
With smiles and stares that went too far,
So sunk in the attention paid by his eyes,
And so caught with the harmonic sound of his lies.
One day he just sang no more,
And I could see the wounds I wore.
Despite the ease, my heart just longues,
Another round of his hurtful songs.
I need thee back
Here in my life
Alive once more as to the times
When my wit wont to resign.
My notion thou paralyzed
With thy motion on this mown mold:
The illusion of the holy paradise,
The sense no longer found.
All the rest is rigid reason,
No more passion nor emotion,
Only ache and endeavor,
Even lust with no pleasure.
All is lost and also there
Somewhere
In motion on this mown mold
Already found by someone else.
MISSING
Ich hasse es, was mich menschlich zu fühlen macht.
Ich hasse das, was mir das Gewicht der Zeit erwacht.
Ich hasse, dass es vor Augen,
Die in meinem Herz tief treten,
Erscheint.
Ich hasse, dass ich es überall treffe;
Dass ich es überall existieren sehe;
Dass ich es wie ein’n kalten Brand spüre.
Und dass es sich auf der Wiese schauen lässt,
Aber nicht zum Eigentum gebracht zu werden erlaubt.
Ich hasse, dass es frei die Welt umkreist,
Voller Freude und Seligkeit,
Genau was es gekriegt hat,
Wegen meiner Abwesenheit.
ABWESENHEIT