[ Esp - Eng ] Evanescencia | Poema





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Efímeras y sutiles las horas
se adormecen en la mirada
del ausente juglar
que pastorea entre las nubes
matices acrisolados
de un recuerdo distante
que fluye, yendo y viniendo.

El día va cerrando sus ojos
y entregando el tenue perfume
de la nostalgia que se esconde
entre las sábanas de un crepúsculo
hipnotizante que de a poco
va estrangulando al tiempo
y exprimiendo sus colores.

El canto insonoro del silencio
escudriña los espacios
buscando esas respuestas
que se esconden por doquier,
huyendo del ruido exterior
el juglar torna su mirada
al laberinto interior para despertar.

Con fragilidad aquel espacio
de sutiles armonías devora
los fractales difuminados
allende del horizonte
de ese océano profundo
donde la memoria pernocta
arropándose en el tiempo.

Desdibujándonos estamos
de ese viaje accidental
que es la rutina llorando
lágrimas punzantes
e hirientes que amortajan
el cadáver insepulto
de la profana vanidad.

Con delicadas pinceladas
los arreboles se entremezclan
entre el sueño y el galope
de caballos multicolores
que recorren la distancia
pintando de esperanza
las horas melancólicas.



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Ephemeral and subtle the hours
they fall asleep in the gaze
of the absent minstrel
who grazes among the clouds
shades of a distant memory
of a distant memory
that flows, coming and going.

The day is closing its eyes
and delivering the faint perfume
of the nostalgia that hides
between the sheets of a hypnotizing twilight
hypnotizing that little by little
is strangling time
and squeezing its colors.

The soundless song of silence
scans the spaces
searching for those answers
that are hidden everywhere,
fleeing from the outside noise
the minstrel turns his gaze
to the inner labyrinth to wake up.

With fragility that space
of subtle harmonies devours
the blurred fractals
beyond the horizon
of that deep ocean
where memory sleeps
tucked in time.

We are blurring
of that accidental journey
that is routine crying
stinging tears
and hurtful tears that shroud
the unburied corpse
of profane vanity.

With delicate brushstrokes
the raptures intermingle
between the dream and the gallop
of multicolored horses
that travel the distance
painting with hope
the melancholic hours.


📌 Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version) Notice to the reader My mother tongue is Spanish, so please excuse me for any grammatical or syntax errors in the translation of this content.
📸 Pexels| Stein Egil Liland
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