(Hilda, 1958) I imagine in other times, in your fun times, those of the strains of mambo and cha cha cha habanero, that you liked so much and I can still hear from time to time in the sonorous echoes of your old walls. I remember imagining
, bright and beautiful as when knights were fighting for your charm slicked singing the verses of your green eyes and golden hair lady your Germanic, it is now in its whiteness shines stoic resisting the rigors of time.
I remember the flowers in your terrace singing arias of love in the twilight of time, imagine the triumphant flash of your smile and the heart stirred by the nostalgia of your ancestral regions.
I imagine shaking the world with the magic breath your beauty and charms of your lives free from taint by which time he had forgotten to take up many years later.
I should have been in Santiago for our nostalgia, it would have felt your fear when the world was falling apart in war and have seen you mourn the aroma of a thousand stories of old continents to understand the present.
there to see you today, you preserved splendid, magnificent diamond as the light of other days, walk with your angel without wings at the beginning of old age, with the same beauty of old drawn into the aura and your stealthy steps of the moon moving to the rhythm of the old soft mambo.
So I keep in my mind, so I draw my letters, so I take the hands and tired of so many eras, thus resisting time, beating both penalties. So I look the look in your sweet glassy green eyes ever. So I prefer to call
: Magnifique!. As before when you called evanescent beauty dazzled, I prefer to call Magnificent, magnificent forever since I never call Grandma.
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