Suspiro, eterno espiral
noche de espuma, revoltijo
antes de ayer, cuando la luz era invisible
las células eran pájaros voladores
la sangre era horas de la tarde
despertar era recrear la creación
reconstruir la Nada… crear la primera partícula
cae,
caer,
callar,
nombrar el vacío
el hermoso inexplicable puente
que une esta historia con la profundidad sin rostro
el tiempo perdido no tiene culpa
nunca ha existido la muerte;
la piel tocándose a sí misma
la lengua con sabor a lengua
la gota de agua sin borde
inmóvil las torceduras del árbol
inmóvil cae la hoja por los aires –
nunca existió la muerte
vivir es casi no existir . . .
Beyond Language 
Is that one of your pictures, Pablo?
I’m not sure what this means, but I had fun saying it out loud.
Hope your weekend is full of good cheer! The Optimistic Tree
Yes it is, most pictures on my blog are.
It goes, roughly, something like this:
Sighing, eternal spiraling
night of foam, unquiet
before yesterday, when light was invisible
cells were flying birds
blood was the hours in the afternoon
to awake and recreate all of Creation
to rebuild Nothingness… to create the first particle
fall,
falling,
falling silent,
naming emptiness
the beautiful inexplicable bridge
that united this history with faceless profundity
Time has no blame
Death has never existed;
the touch of skin on itself
the tongue tasting the flavor of tongue
the drop of water without edge
motionless the contortion of the tree
motionless falls the leaf through the air –
never once Death existed,
to live is almost to not exist at all…
(a translation is like a photograph of a real live scene)
Thank you for the trans-photo, Pablo!
I’d like to pick out my favorite line in this one,
but there are so many to choose from.
My contortion is motionless and,
therefore naturally flexible.