The solitude of poetry,
the solitude of the years.
The poetry of solitude,
the years of solitude.

The weight of the years like a
self-denial of threads in crucifixion.
The sea without owner.

The vacuum of poetry,
the vacuum of life.
The poetry of vacuum,
the life of vacuum.

The weight of your dead like a
calvary of a stray bird.
The sky with owner.

The love of poetry,
the sadness of the soul.
The poetry of love,
the soul of sadness.

A verse is the union of a
memory and the paper in the
most untold, subtlest possible way.
A verse is the suicidal way
to evoke the truth and to show it
to the inquisitive eye of the world.

Poetry as everything,
and nothing as poetry.


By: Mabel Rosales (Honduras)

Author of Letras & Poesía

Translated from Poesía by Luca Arnaldo

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