Listen to my song
Listen to my song, brother, it’s cheerful and mediocre and filled with all my visions. Feel the movement of the shadows, listen to my song. We’ve fallen vertically to embrace the rain, listen to my song. From now on you’ll know what binds me to the world, sing with me. We have named the body, not the soul. Sing, fortune is the kiss that kills us. I see the universe clearly when I close my eyes. Tell me if you see it. We’ve come to trace the golden time with white teardrops. We have formed the same circle. Tear my eyes out. Don’t stop listening to me. I will be stripped of my own hands like a criminal. I will never again laugh tangled in the fog. Brother, wake me when you start to dream. If I write that poetry is a flame, it’s because everything is shutting down.
{ Jesús Montoya, Primer viaje, Maracaibo: Movimiento Poético de Maracaibo, 2014 }
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