A mitad de la noche / Midnight

Buenos días lectores de Hive y del mundo,

Esta vez me gustaría compartirles un poema en mi voz. No sé por qué estoy teniendo insomnio. Es terrible porque si ocurre (como ahora es el caso), que en unas pocas horas debo ir trabajar, seguramente me va a dominar durante todo el día una flojera tremenda. Sin embargo, hay que verle el lado positivo al asunto. Es extremo lo de no dormir, pero ha sido bueno, pues gracias al insomnio he logrado escribir y editar este sencillo video que dejo a su consideración.

En mi poema hay una referencia al de LUIS ROGELIO NOGUERAS que se titula: Ama al cisne salvaje.

La referencia se da por la mención del cisne y lo que en ese verso mio intento decir. Me pareció necesario compartirla para que no dejen de leer ese maravilloso poema, uno de mis preferidos del autor cubano.

Por supuesto, Wichy fue un gran maestro y no es posible de ninguna manera que yo pueda compararme en términos líricos con él. Es tan contundente la manera en que están construidas las imágenes de su poema que yo siento fascinación por la exactitud de cada palabra.

Good morning readers of Hive and the world,

This time I would like to share with you a poem in my voice. I don't know why I am having insomnia. It is terrible because if it happens (as is the case now), that in a few hours, I have to go to work, I will surely be dominated by tremendous laziness during the whole day. However, we must look at the positive side of the matter. It is extremely not to sleep, but it has been good because thanks to insomnia I have managed to write and edit this simple video that I leave for your consideration.

In my poem there is a reference to one that I like very much by LUIS ROGELIO NOGUERAS and it is entitled: Ama al cisne salvaje (Love the wild swan)

The reference is given by the mention of the swan and what I am trying to say in that verse. I thought it necessary to share it so that you do not fail to read this wonderful poem, one of my favourites by the Cuban author.

Of course, Wichy was a great master and it is in no way possible that I can compare myself in lyrical terms with him. How the images of his poem are constructed is so forceful that I am fascinated by the accuracy of each word.

Midnight

I dream of your hands,
your fingers
calm,
too perfect
prickling with delirium
I dream of your hands
and they give me to drink
honey and melodies.

It turns out that tonight I waste my time again
wasting verses that I won't read
my head is crammed with notes where the pianist warns
that he has made a false move
Meanwhile, in some unknown confine,
the sea draws an arabesque
(do) (re) (mi)
and a little thorn pierces my heart,
it could be said that tenderly
it makes it bleed, not once, not twice, but several times
then I wake up
alone
looking for water, salt, pebbles...

Sometimes I wonder why I dilute myself so much in that salty lake
that you won't cross,
that won't bring you to my magical garden...

It doesn't matter who you are.
You are.
And it's not you, I'm talking to
it's him, your shadow,
to the piano.

It didn't have to be said,
my goddesses weave the mystery
in the frame of a harp,
left in the middle of the night
in soliloquy, in front of the mirror.

I hope you pass this way without brushing against me
let the silence take possession of the poem
not to be applauded
may it not be
lest those wary of its tender, feverish
of its tender, feverish humidity
let it tremble and let it shred in every letter
like a fool who steals a kiss
a single kiss, which never happened.

Will you understand what I'm telling you?
hush, don't breathe (I'm the wild swan)
any false move
and only your music will remain, shivering from the cold
in a clean room with the smell of cedar, perhaps.

Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)

Recursos: Canva y Camtasia 3 / Resources: Canva and Camtasia 3

Music by Noru from Pixabay

_{Contenido original (texto y fotos), por @nanixxx / Original content (text and photos), by @nanixxx}

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_{Todos los derechos reservados ©, 2023. / All rights reserved ©, 2023.}