Antes me desesperaba... / Emilio Adolfo Westphalen

I used to grow desperate...

I used to grow desperate waiting —
the endless impatient waiting.
Now I don’t wait for anything — and it’s still insufferable.

You’ve set me aside beautiful traitor.

The scale of the dream:
I fall knocking myself down — destroyed — blessed.

Careful with repeating gestures and words
(it brings bad luck and a worse conscience)

Invalid from such happiness —
they almost forgot the color of the sky.
(Was it red? — was it black?)

The most vibrant harmony
is made of dissonance
(and regret).

Sink your feet into the earth —
do you grow roots?
— the white lily sprouts —

The unusual odious
characters of my dreams.

The stubborn form
of the graceful wind.




{ Emilio Adolfo Westphalen, Simulacro de sortilegios: Poesía completa, Madrid: Visor Libros, 2006 }