The colored lights flash
at the rhythm of the music
and here you are with me, my great love.
Your image visited me once more
and in between the dreams and dawn
I saw you with your timid smile
with your perfume of a woman
with your lips made of my desires
half opened, the way I had imagined them
a thousand times
beautiful, the way they have always been
You gazed at me with your forest eyes
with your look made of spring
saying nothing
only looking at me
only looking
How badly I long to embrace my dreams
and how much I want to be free of them
I have not been able to do either one
and here I am once more
writing and pouring out words
as if by some magic art
they could touch you
as if for some invisible force
they could reach your ears
I wish they could be music,
a song and some hope
but I know that they are only words
they are only dreams of past times
they are only memories of golden afternoons,
of naked and warm siestas
of passionate and humid embraces
of silences and glances
of hands interlaced
of intertwined bodies
of tears I couldn't kiss
of arms saying good-byes
of all the illusions vanishing
in the mist of time
in the incomprehension of the moment.
I am unable to reach your land,
a land that is no longer mine
and even when anxiously I wait
everyday for your signal
something tells me in my interior
that I need to let you go.
I need to say good-bye
I need to see you the way you really are.
And it could be so simple if I could know it
if I truly could see you the way you are
if I could look at you with my eyes
and touch you with my hands
and kiss you with my lips
and love you with my entire being.
It does not seem to be my destiny
and neither seems to be yours.
I cannot spent the rest of my life
at the port of my remembrances
waiting for that boat
that someday will arrive
that someday I will spot in the horizon
with yellow sails and breath made of flowers.
Simply I cannot do it
and I cannot stop waiting for you either
Please come and tell me what to do
tell me with your garden sweetness
that you want to see me for an afternoon
or perhaps for two days and a night
and maybe for an entire morning
In which I could love you.
You almost told me all of this
through the invisible thread,
but the words vanished
after they were pronounced
after they were thought
after they were caressed
after they were imagined.
You are silent now
wordless on the other side of the world
where the warmth I feel
is the snow that surrounds you
where the fire of your place
keep you warm, quiet, calm and lost.
Perhaps you are not what I believe you are
and certainly you are not what you use to be
and now the autumn of our lives
decides that the fallen leaves
are only good as seeds
for whatever we have launched into the future.
That uncertain future
we can only intuit it
we can only long for it
we can only touch it when the memories appear.
Because it is really the longing of the past
it is the fragrance of the wilting flowers
meddling with my present
the one that makes me search for you
and chase your image.
If I see it differently
we don't have anything besides what is gone
we don't have anything besides a memory
we don't have anything besides an enormous distance.
A distance, not only in time
but also in this space which does not coincide
with your life or mine,
and here we are like two pieces
unable to fit
unable to understand each other
unable to see each other
unable to touch each other.
Pieces that continue to search for each other
to avoid each other
to love each other
to desire each other without limits
because for one instant we were one
for a brief moment we were indissoluble
we were immortal
we were everything for the other.
How many more times will you visit me?
How many more dreams I need to have with your absence?
Could I be able to see you some day?
The colored lights flash at the rhythm of the music
and here you are with me, my great love
We dance slowly and each flash of the lights
reveals a detail of your face
and of your body
I thank you for your light smile
and I thank you for that murmur
and I give thanks for the hope of an everlasting love.
Abstract:
This poetry is based on the Guided Experience "Nostalgia",
in which the objective is to reconcile the loves of the past
in order to launch ourselves in a clear search towards the future.
Some elements of "The Internal Landscape" are being
used as well. What is important is the rescue and the conversion
of those images. Needless is to say that is based on a personal
experience.
Fernando Aránguiz
Written one of those nights in 1998
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