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Poems that I wrote in the sand



I

My brig, where you come from, you can not
that spot?
Brigantine! My brig!
I leave, I wrote poems in the sand to the sea ...
I hurry! Hurry! I can see vultures flying

addition, over me ...
I'm afraid ...
afraid of me not coming to an end.
My arms are twisted.
My mouth was torn.
But the eyes are alive and well, and
expect prisoners to Heaven .. What will
p'ra beyond the night?
p'ra beyond the pitch-black night?
Ah! Brigantine, such as late ...
not you see my body lying on the beach
, sea forgotten? ...
This sea I wanted to live, and
shake and kiss, gentle waves
without covering it ... Would
'd come already ...
that's getting very late!
And I do not want to end, without
see what's beyond
this big, huge sky
and pitch tonight ...
not want to die peaceful
each passing hour
unable to spot you ...
With my eyes just seeing
dark night,
and black birds, flying ...

II
My brig was out to sea ...
was out to sea and never returned,
that a distant beach,
my brigantine sank ... My
brigantine went overboard!
kisses took in the sails, and
trunks, illusions,
that only offered me ...
He led aft, carved
profile, lightweight, unobtrusive,
those who one day lost. It took
masts painted
flags from around the world, and lead soldiers

on deck profiles.
to sea was my brigantine,
was out to sea ...
never came back!
And for seven full moons
In sands and wept ...

Alda Lara

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