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The Stone Throne

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My Gnome made me a stone throne
where I feel as a real Queen,
but I don´t like wearing jewels
except his gold wedding ring.

My only crown is his love,
my only scepter his deeds
and our palace waits in Heaven
where we´ll live eternally.

……….o……….

Here you can read some of my poems in Spanish and English

Poesía en español por Dulcina

 

Al maestro Miguel Delibes (1920-2010)

 Silencio…
sí,
que un hombre recio,
de palabra pausada,
exacta y certera,
nos ha dejado
en silencio…

Su camino
se ha ensanchado
buscando el infinito.

En otras voces,
en otras lenguas,
hablan
sus palabras austeras,
cristalinas,
del amor a su tierra,
a sus gentes,
a esas piezas sacrificadas
a sus dioses terrenos
–tan certera su arma
como su pluma–
ganando al tiempo,
libre y entero.
Un rito sagrado
de sangre e incruento.

Silencio…

Miguel,
hoy en Castilla
el rocío de las flores
es llanto de madrugada,
el eco de los montes
profundísimo lamento,
el vuelo de la mariposa
fúnebre danza,
–tan negro amanecer–
Ajea asustada la perdiz,
el ciervo brama dolido
a este invierno gélido.
Es la orilla de tu río
menos ancha.
Tiemblan las ratas
en sus cloacas
por la ausencia del amigo.

Silencio…

Dejas tu tierra
bien plantada de sabia y
prolífica semilla
–siembra de sangre brava,
y sabia palabra–
que no te has muerto,
no,
que no estás muerto.

Los sabios inocentes
saben premiar mejor que
el mejor premio.
En silencio…
sí,
como se honra
a los buenos,
a los hombres de verdad,
de pura raza,
a los sin miedo.

Tú,
fiel Miguel,
ya definitivamente
con tu amada
–vivía en tu triste mirada–
y nosotros,
irremediablemente ya,
sin ti.

Al fin,
vives en verdad
con ella
–su temprana partida
fue bala del destino,
partiendo tu eje en dos–
y tus pupilas,
en alas angélicas,
han vuelto a sonreír.

Maestro,
ni la muerte
ha podido vencerte.

¡Ah!
Ved cómo se alarga más
la sombra del ciprés…

© 12 marzo 2010

 

Dónde

Me pregunto
dónde comienza tu piel,
dónde termina la mía,
cuando se miman.
Son la misma –
responde el viento
entre caricias.

 

Palacio de Soñanes_piano_087

Palacio de Soñanes

Romanza

Brotan de mí,
cual gotas invisibles,
notas alegres o tristes
cuando tus dedos
golpean o acarician
mi cantarina boca.

Es mi lamento
tu callado llanto.
Es mi júbilo
explosión de tu gozo,
tu furia, tu rabia, tu reposo.
Soy el canto
de tu alma de poeta.

Tú mi esclavo amigo
y yo el tuyo,
rebelde a veces si me exiges,
sumiso siempre que me mimas,
y te amo más
cuanto más me hieres
o fustigas.

¿Dónde empiezas tú
y dónde acabo yo?
Nadie lo sabe…
Somos uno,
hechos los dos de savia
y carne pura.
Late tu corazón en mis acordes
y es mi armonía razón
y llama de tu vida.
Vibra tu inspiración
en cada suspiro de mis notas
y algo muere y nace de mí
cada vez que me tocas.

Tantas horas a solas,
contigo y conmigo,
nos han hecho odiarnos
y querernos tanto,
tanto,
buscando esa perfección
que nunca llega,
el complaciente aplauso,
la crítica severa,
el halago engañoso,
la verdad placentera.

Hay cordura
en cada acorde que exhalo;
hay delirio
en todos mis silencios;
hay amor
en nuestro entendimiento.
Nuestro idilio
nace y muere al compás
de un tiempo eterno.

Me rindo a tus normas,
a tus caprichos,
a tu inconsciente desidia,
y hacemos versos juntos
en escalados besos.

Ven a mí
cada noche,
y que tus manos me abran,
me hagan vivir de nuevo,
desvelando secretos
en mística armonía,
en amoroso acorde,
en tiernos arpegios.

Soy tu yo
hecho música y poesía,
soy tu piano.

……….o……….

Bridge Río Miera 042

Al río Miera

(Publicado por primera vez con ligeras variaciones en  mi  Blog de “El Diario Montañes” el 12/09/09)

El Miera baja cantando
entre sus cantos y ramas
y bajo el puente de piedra
deja sus ecos el agua.

Río que ríes y lloras
lágrimas dulces y claras,
dame a beber tu pureza
y lávame en tus entrañas.

Naces de nieves glaciares
en los altos de Lunada
saltando por torrenteras,
golpeando  rocas con rabia.

Entre montañas te estrechas
y en el valle te derramas
regando huertas y flores,
saciando bocas y cañas.

Son tus orillas amigas
abrazos verdes que abrazas
con el frescor de tu espuma
y la risa de tus aguas.

Cauce que te lleva manso
entre meandros que danzan
con tus alegres guijarros
coqueteando con gracia.

Reflejas toda la magia
del valle, de las cabañas,
de las cumbres y los pinos
que engalanan tus vaguadas.

Mueres sereno dejando
plegarias en la bahía
besando al mar con tu adiós
para ser sal redimida.

……….o……….

A Cantabria

Moza galana y montana,
infinita Cantabria solariega,
amaneces en rocas de grandeza
y te duermes en lunas plateadas.

…escuchad, escuchad el canto del tarín…

Son tus venas de piedra y agua pura
la magia del silencio acariciada
y es dulce cantar que me embelesa
tu sollozo en ecos que me llama.

…y contemplad a las vacas en las brañas…

Das nombre al fiero mar que te engrandece
en espumosas crestas al son de caracolas,
abriéndote con fe a un horizonte ancho
repleto de sueños de palomas .

…mi Pidru va dormidito en el cuévano…

Viven ocultos en tu piedras milenarias
lamentos, suspiros y voces enredadas,
gritos de batallas, amorosos gemidos,
cálidos susurros, risas y plegarias.

…el ijujú de la cuadrilla estalla en el aire…

No dejes que te arranquen tus secretos
ni abandones tus ancestrales galas,
que eres dueña de prados, de casucas,
de palacios, de cuevas y cabañas.
De iglesias, monasterios seculares,
de un trozo del madero en que Jesús
nos dejó su sangre derramada,
¡cruz bendita de Dios que te besara!

…a Yurde se le ha roto el rodal…

Blanca, verde, azul y parda,
respiras el perfume de aguas bravas,
batiéndose las olas de tu mar
contra rocas y vientos de batalla.

…los pescadores recogen sus retuelles…

Me enamoré de ti por tu hermosura
y sigo aún de ti enamorada
pues sabes dar lo que tienes generosa
a cambio de tenerme embelesada.

…y cogen plateadas sulas en la bahía…

Guardo en mi rostro el frescor de tu rocío
cual perlas de cristal inmaculadas
y me visto de tu lluvia y de tu nieve
desnuda en soledad de madrugada.

…llena la zapita, Branca, llénala…

Hecha de arte y de callado esfuerzo,
viven en ti seguros los que te aman,
pero sabes borrar de tus paisajes
a aquellos que te hieren y profanan.

…después de la siega afilan sus dalles…

Marinera brava y sabia campesina,
bella hechicera y dulce pastora,
entre el dulzor de mieles y rosas
en tus bosques las anjanas moran.

…las marzas ya llegan con la primavera…

Te elevas, te inclinas y te acuestas
en suaves valles de encanto y poesía
salpicados de historia, de ritos ancestrales
testigos de tu gloria y valentía.

…en el estragal romance de miradas y besos…

Tus pastos son riqueza del pasiego,
tus playas son descanso de jornadas.
sabia señora y novia del viajero,
amiga del humilde y siempre soberana.

…sarruján, sarruján, que va a lloviznar…

Entre la niebla se esconde tu misterio,
bajo tu suelo la primavera aguarda,
las águilas anidan en tus cumbres,
desde tus ríos la vida se hace agua.

…sorrapeando el sendero se hace ligero…

Me robas el aliento que me donas
y me ofreces la paz de tus montañas,
el pan tierno, el preciado sustento,
la nobleza de tu gente y de tu raza.

…escuchad a los piteros en la romería…

A cambio de tu cálida acogida,
¿qué puedo darte si apenas tengo nada?
Estos versos son mi único regalo,
que ya tan sólo me quedan las palabras.

…y Cantabria se alza majestuosa en sus albarcas…

……….o…oOo…o……….

English poetry by Dulcina

 

Where

I ask myself
where your skin ends,
where mine begins.
They are the same –
answers the breeze
with a caress.

Slaves of Ourselves

slavery_1No chains, no whips, no tortures.
Paper means nothing to rapers.
Who´s the prince and who´s the pauper?
Those yellow, red and black barbarians
have emerged from catacombs,
fighting with no weapons, no blades, no bombs.
Beware,
a silent war´s overcoming us
and yesterday´s slaves will be tomorrow´s masters:
those dragons, tigers and lions
have run faster than the gazelle.
Time will tell…

-谢谢 Xié Xié.
– नमस्ते Namaskaram
– Asante sana!

Paper power is coming to an end
and a great wall is surrounding  us all.
Please, don´t laugh at the rich Emperor´s clothes.
Welcome, wealthy mandarin!
Colour doesn´t matter if it smells of gold…
The greedy elephant exploded over the mob.
You broke it, you bought it.
Look at those three wise men coming again from the east.
I am Shem. I am Ham. I am Japhet.

Who knows where the north  star is?

Everybody has dreams and paradises with different names.
Are you going to Firdaws, Vaikuntha or Heaven, sir?
Let´s listen to hopeful new voices from Babylon.
Who cares about the Big Bang …?
For a baby its mother is all its universe.
When the blind white man recovered his sight
he saw his wife was brown and pregnant.

-Too late, babe, too late.Six, six, six,
Samson destroyed the pillars of Wall Street.
We had to trust those legal thieves.
Manipulation got its bitter reward.
Cameras in every corner for our security.
Yeah, a good excuse, boss.
I control you, you control me.
You can buy my body but my soul is not for sale.

– I´ll show you my face under the veil.

 

A giant yellow stream is overflowing the pale territory.
Noah, Noah, where´s your boat…?
Hidden hands, hidden eyes, hidden tongues
moving the stupid marionettes of the past.
A black high tide floods over the marble city
in echoes of justice or revenge, who knows?
No more blood, no more blades, no more blues.
A gentle kiss.

– Take off your gloves, my queen.

Bronze, topaz and azabache skins.
All corpses stink the same
and all skeletons look like ivory bargains.
Bones, bones and bones scattered across
the desert battlefield.
Only death is fair, said the grinning skull.

– Whose do you think it was?
– Nay, I know not.

Paper money can be torn or thrown to flames.
Same crowns for different kings.
The white era is over looking for nothing
in its empty pockets.
He offers us rainbows with colors of precious stones,
jasper, sapphire, emerald, jacinth and amethyst.
Too late for action…?

– I asked you for love, not compassion.So many peaces broken into pieces.
And God is forgiving once and again
his Peter, his Thomas and his Judas Iscariot.
They still adore their old deities
while we are worshiping millions of gold calves.

– When will you learn?
When will you learn?
Will you ever learn…?

A young mom is lulling her baby under an ancient baobab.
The bamboo boy is listening to the Beatles,
“Love, love, love…”
while playing his thousand drums,
dreaming of a new land for everyone.
Words, words, words…

– I could do nothing but obey.

They´ve been collecting
precious stones in rivers of hope.
As fat Epulon was falling,
they were climbing step by step on tiptoe.
Maybe they will love us more than we have ignored them.
Who´s guilty and who´s to blame?

– Bwana, you taught me how to play the game.

rompiendo cadenas_01

Children of poverty
fed by their faith, their hunger and their desperation
have been crowding the earth.
Their mothers had no money for abortions.
Wombs on sale and tumbs rented
for a cheap rest.

– Madam, I change  my marbles for your gold necklace.

Ah, aah, aaah!
Buddah, Allah and Jehovah have a secret meeting
to decide who will throw the dice today.
One tree, two towers, three thrones.
Hosanna, Obama, Hosanna!
While the mob is singing,
be ready to be nailed to your cross.

– Father, forgive them,
for they know not what they do.

Slaves of ourselves
in search of a false freedom.
As Cain and Abel are sniffing cocaine,
new crowns are prepared to rule our kingdoms
with Superman and Hawkins tied to their wheelchairs.
Tattoos and piercings adorn pale skins:
one more sacrifice for  progress and modernity.

– A ticket to hell, please.
No return. Heaven is overbooked.
 Many live in Sodom, many in Gomorrah and only a few in Zoar.
Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!
We do not want the ruins of our Roman Empire to be restored.
Never again.
Just believe in that white horse
who won´t be scared by the snake.
Behold and remember,
truth and faith are walking … trotting … galloping from afar.

-Ephphatha!

watts36 The thirtieth day of september two-o-o-eight.
I´m no prophet,
just a poor witness of change
ready to die in sweet oblivion…

– Eli Eli lama sabachthani?

 

 Then Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, ‘If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.’ (John 8:21-32)

……….o……….

Silence

That never said word,
so worth the wait,
so well restrained,
keeps the secret
of  harmony.
Dark light

Ah!
Your eyes…
gazing at the stars
in clear nights.
Luring the moon
to whisper.
Ask them.
Green ice which stares
at me in wonder.
Nobody else.
There

Such a fine line
arising
in the horizon.
Golden
instant fading
and gone.
Murmurs

Leaves and feathers
sing together
while the cricket
cries alone.
Smoke and prayers
fill the air
where a fairy
flies in chord.
Waiting

Hung
from the tall tree
lives wisdom
waiting for fruit.
The voice

I heard
a voice
that once
was also mine.
Company

Loneliness,
sweet company ever,
don´t leave me
alone.
Envious

How I envy those three birds
flying freely through the wind,
their wings open
without borders,
to an unknown destiny.
Perfection

In a morning
of grace and  glory
verb found
its perfect tense.
Almost

By instinct,
she caught that
precise instant
when
his lips
were almost
a kiss.
Theirs.
……………………..

… and so it is
(seven acts of love facts)

When the king kissed the queen
— on her fluffy face of course —
she put him in her lap
touching his hair
till she fell asleep
observed by those jealous eyes
she feared.
When the hour came,
both of them were dancing
in a pantomime of failures
and fumbles.
So is royal life!

When the slave kissed his mistress
— on her taffy lips indeed–
she threw him from her lap
pushing his head
till he fell down
peeped by those lusty eyes
they imagined.
When the hour came,
both of them were sleeping
in a paradox of perdition
and creation.
So is real life!

When the mistress kissed the maid
— on her floppy mouth surely–
they thought of the king
cursing his fate
till they fell asleep
stabbed by those suspicious eyes
they forgot.
When the hour came,
both of them were riding
in an ocean of liberation
and equity.
So is legal love!

When the king kissed the maid
— the queen would imagine where —
she took him to her bed
caressing his legs
till he could resist
ignored by those blind eyes
they shut.
When the hour came,
both of them were resting
in a garden of freedom
and pleasure.
So is royal love!

When the maid kissed the queen
– on her hand certainly–
she laughed at her
remembering the king
till she fell down
pushed by those pure eyes
she hated.
When the hour came,
the maid was crying
in a prison of slaves
and lovers.
So is legal life!

When the king kissed the slave
– the maid knows where really–
he put him in his throne
caressing his thighs
till he ran away
followed by those angry eyes
he closed.
When the hour came,
he was with her lover
in a country of redemption
and oblivion.
So is rejected love!

When the slave kissed the queen
– where I don´t know –
she cooed him in her lap
caressing his curls
till he fell asleep
petted by those tender eyes
he adored.
When the hour came,
both of them were drifting
in a paradise of fantasies
and lures.
So is real love.
So is love.

… and so it is.

My Orpheus

 Smell of coffee
reaches our bedroom
in the upper floor
– dawn still awaiting
to break the dark –
while whispers of old prophets,
dancing in harmony with
Calliope´s voice
and notes of Beethoven,
fill the air
behind the close door.

Words whirl in a crazy ballet:
some rejected,
others taken,
a few doubted.

Erato smiles,
his beats increase.

Don´t look back at her…

Keys rhyme
among vacuous echoes
– dumb angels –
following the cadent rhythm
of his soft fingers.

Daily routine
fighting sleep and drought,
prayers for that precious spring
hidden behind evil shadows.

The early bird
sings my name
in golden light:
it´s time to finish
the struggle.
The poet has won
and musical verses
adorn the virgin paper
in hope.

Wounds will heal,
scars will last.

With the first rays,
Zeus´s daughters
return silently
to Mount Helicon.
Clio,
in purple gown,
cannot see or hear him
in the aisle of the temple.

Day after day,
my poor poet
keeps playing his lyre for her,
her deafblind goddess.

He is my Orpheus
and he killed the snake.

Remember,
don´t look back at me…

White lies

White lies lay
undressed
waiting to be told
by love, lust,
luxury
and loneliness.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. camilo permalink
    October 9, 2010 6:28 pm

    hello i want to make a question i’m not a english speaker and that’s why. i don’t know what flaffy is, i heard once it but i can’nt find what it is.

    i hope you can help me :)…..

  2. dulcinaandgnome permalink*
    November 22, 2010 2:44 am

    It was a mistake, sorry, that´s why you couldn´t find it.
    Thanks for your comment.
    I think you know English…🙂

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