Havana, Cuba at sunset "You remind me of the dreamy meadow
the wall that separates us from the sea, whether it's night you remember me sitting
certain feelings
never know what brought on the wings
whether living or dead, whether dead or alive ... "
clearly remember the first encounter with your image pounding in my old books full of aromas, your image of wood dampened by the course of your time, your smile drawing your story and look of my senses entibiando coals.
Do you remember when you came to get me on that rainy afternoon ... the time you were jumping puddles to come to my meeting and headed to the district under the umbrella of the poets to read me a Lihn with your glasses fogged by the steam coffee?
also in my kiss I remember the evening when we accept that Night stain the skin with the ink of the night and smiled ...
You know, you know how much I love to see you
smile ... It happens that you see on the streets of Havana as I saw that afternoon in the rain ... with boiling your smile thunderous twilight revelry of the Caribbean.
happens that you feel weird, brilliant in that capacity you have to read my mind and fill the bones of foam, with yours heat that reached with the mine as part of the same spell, you have to see you walking down these streets my sunshine in the spirit stirred so many memories that come and go, hoping that happens soon this summer of shit that makes you more and more endless, succumbing at times between poetry and pain, forging a smile to greet the teeming mulatto skin, trying to find the kiss you do not have every flavor of coffee ...
"You remind me of the streets of Old Havana Cathedral
black tile in your bathroom
you remind me of things I do not know, windows
where the singers sang
love night to Havana's love Habana
happens that I hear and I connect with your shadow and your neck firm, when days and nights going forward written by themselves, when the pain becomes stronger than the analgesia of poetry.
You know, these days I'm claiming verses still, and see you down the street and sustained over time does more than return these verses of yours who always support me, no tricks, no frills.
These days I can see you in the streets cut viboreantes this horny moon Havana that surrounds us ... you and me.
I wonder if everything is false, if all be true, if you can find me in those dark skies of our America to tie your star hispanic, if you can not invent in kisses without studying each sentence, if perhaps not stumble on this look not know if you can not one of them later orange sunsets, swaying in the melancholy of coffee, quench my desire to be art in the folds of your skin ...
And what matters in the end, what the hell mind, I end up saying, if I've already drunk so much of your soul and understand both your hands to yourself I'm sure I will not need eyes when I understand the blood, when I receive full, when you are waiting for your poems make game my pores on the magnetism of this city awesome remote warm winds and scorching summers, one of many of our evenings in Havana ...
"This is not an elegy,
not a romance, or a verse
rather a
thanks for giving my longing for a kiss why a modest crown
found in the dawn ..."
(Silvio)
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