La Malva-rosa

Foto propiedad de FBC,, Omnia Caelum Studios Valencia

With the Strength of Her Faith…

With the strength of her faith …

and the force of her will,
with her bones, bent with age
and her body quite ill,
she still struggled to keep
a smile on her face,
a kind word on her lips,
and his gentle embrace.

With his eyes filled with hope
and her eyes filled with tears,
such a heartbreak to cope
with her illness and fears.
Then he saw her grow silent,
get frail and so thin
and her thoughts wouldn’t come forth,
they lingered within…

Within were her feelings
her thoughts, recollections,
and without there was nothing,
just empty reflections of the loved one
that looked in her eyes
and saw nothing inside,
not a trace of the woman
that had lived by his side…

She looked through the window
as he slept there beside her,
in an August morn bright with the sun,
and he dreamt that an angel
had extended his hand
and she took it and glowed.
And she moved,
like she did in the good years.
And she smiled,
and she laughed and they danced…
It was all in a dream
For awakening,
he saw that she had breathed her last.

Then he noticed a ray of that sunshine,
that formed her silhouette on the wall,
and she held out her hand
and he kissed it
and he knew she found peace after all…

C.2020, Francisco Bravo Cabrera, 24 FEB 2020, Valencia, Spain

THANKS!

"Valencia", by Gabriela M. and "He Visto a Valencia", a liberal Adaptation…

Image: Tithi Luadthong; Shutterstoc

A fish turns in my dreams
algae wrap around my wrists
Valencia, I just saw you in his eyes
his skin is madness
made of sandalwood
the smell of autumn paves the way
loves lost on lonely cobbled streets
a shadow dances on the wall
a pen writes on a table by itself
on a deck
a sailor flips a coin
dreams,
dust of desiccated lands
impressions, fingers on the pillow
under a purple sky
dried wounds
Valencia,
this room is loneliness,
alienation,
and smells of sandalwood

(by Gabriela M. @Short-prose-Fiction)

AND

HE VISTO A VALENCIA

(A liberal adaptation, in the Spanish language by Francisco Bravo Cabrera)

La silueta de una golondrina
a la luz de la luna,
a la luz de la luna…

El revuelo de un pez,
que en mis sueños
he de conservar
y su forma lograr,
no me abruma.

En las algas del fondo del río, se esconden mis manos.
Y mis dedos,
que nunca lo han hecho,
ahora rezan con mucha paciencia,
pues ya en sus ojos he visto a Valencia,
y en su piel la insaciable locura,
que viaja celosa por las calles oscuras
de adoquines, quebrados y viejos.

Me seduce el olor de la noche
que se torna en fragancia de sándalo,
y sin música salgo bailando con la sombra de una bailarina.
Y en el bloc,
donde guardo mis gratos recuerdos,
donde esculpo mis rezos diarios,
el boli y la tinta,
sus paginas siguen manchando sin yo darme cuenta,
y también sin poder evitarlo.

Y ¿esta habitacion?
No la conozco, ya no es mi morada,
Mí morada es ahora la noche.

Tiro monedas al aire,
para ver que va ser mi futuro.
¿Y esos dedos?
Las garras de un ángel
que ha dejado su huella implacable en mi almohada.
Y a pesar de todo esto, el olor de mi cama sigue siendo de sándalo…

(adaptación libre de Francisco Bravo Cabrera del poema “Valencia” de Gabriela M.)

(foto propiedad de FBC, Omnia Caelum Studios Valencia, Derechos Reservados)