INMEMORIAL

… I run into the first few moments of the afternoon,
with the hills of love on my waist;

…the atriums of persevered light,
Where are they, what styles or yunques enarbolan,
in what cement poses the deep water that shakes and trembles everything?

… will this be my ruin?
the inmemorial well from which it amanezca… ???
Where and how to watch over the sigh of the intimate rock…???

… go to the sidereal afternoon and alone welcoming wheat, and roses, and sadness;
bracing yourself in the weather against a hidden path of my own,
and my ruins, silent living spaces,
Enjoy yourself in the mountains of my fires.
***
Antonio Justel
https://antoniojustel.com
***