To your voice, the one which faints
I have witnessed over your body
The simple and elegant chords.
On your eyes, the bright purity
Of an insane resentment.
On your snow-white eyes
I now look at your stance,
You look so fragile, so gentle,
On your loving silhouette.
I remember you under the tenderness of the clouds,
Of those unthinkable times,
Of infrequent silences,
Of memorable autumns under the loyal landscape.
Who is to think about you more than me?
Not what the wind has taken your hour,
Who is to think in you, my love?
If your mouth demands my mouth.
It is good to know that walking with you
We are more than two shadows
Although the shadow of your oblivion
Begs me more of your new hours.
Tonight I don't feel impeccable,
The autumnal horses
Seem to take your beauty away,
Also your tenderness, as well as your trees.
When laying down my eyes in you depth
In that secret shape of your walls,
Darkness fills with laurels
And the eyes dream again.
You will gather your arms, your legs,
The crucible of your mornings,
put out under the sound of the bells
Of your insanity and happinesses.
This afternoon's gardens
Wore of good fear,
And, before the look of this full body,
My slow verse gets lost.
This way, as well, my future gets lost
Between your leaving steps,
Like the aroma of a spell,
Your naked peace returns to me.
© Ricardo Calderón Inca
Ricardo Calderón Inca writes from Peru, and took part with this poem of the first Heptagrama poetry contest.
Arts and expression + Poetry