Poetry & Arts

Song of all

 

Two souls you must have...

Is an advice of wisest;

One, in the deep one of the Being,

Another one, floating in the lips!

One, for the circumspect

, Untied in the naked words

That useless you pronounce,

Between smiles and byes:

 The voluble soul of the streets,

That people shows to the passers-by,

 Wide in the hands of the women,

Agitates in the foams,

Distributes for the ways

and spends without more nor less,

In shinning roads,

For the hours, the days...

 

Anonymous and usual soul,

Far of the Good and the Evil,

That is not bad nor is good,

But, simply, illusory,

Agile, subtle, diluted,

false Currency of the Life,

That worth because it sounds,

That purchase the men and glory

 and the vanity that echoes

 Soul that if fulls and overflows,

That it does not have reason nor when,

That it does not think and does not remember,

does not love, does not believe, does not feel,

But it goes living and passing

In the eddy of the torrent,

Traverse intricate webs,

Without pleasures and hurts.

Fugitive as waters,

Ingrate as sands.

 

Soul that passes between flouts Or hugs, smiling,

That it comes and goes, goes and comes,

That you loan to all,

But does not belong to nobody.

Salamander steal-color,

That changes to the lesser rumor Of leaves by boulevards;

Soul that never expresses,

That it is a box of surprises

In the hands of the cautious men;

Soul that is perhaps a crime,

But that it is a great defense.

 

To another soul, rare pearl,

Inside of a calm shell,

Deep, perpetual and so dear

That few can possess it,

Is soul that in the entrails

Of your life murmurs

When you stop and rest.

The one that attends of Mountains

 the free nimbleness’s

 things panorama

Better to know them

 and never to compromise,

Between pardons and sweetness,

 In a quiet modesty,

With the same generous looking,

that it contemplates the stars

 and attends the dream of the flowers...

 

Soul that is only yours,

That doesn’t betray nor does not deceive you,

That never if depreciates,

That it is voice of the world in silence.

That it is the divine seed

Of your state of hardeness human being,

Soul that is only uncovered

For a noble tear,

For an affective heroism,

 In the close confidences

Of truth and beauty:

 Miracle of the nature

 course in ellipses

In a limpid and honest dream,

 Of supreme ideology,

However, arising in a gesture,

However, going up in a poem.

 

 

Source of the Dream,

deposit That hides the gold washers,

Keeping, in deep tracks,

the gold of your Life.

 

Soul of saint and shepherd,

hero, martyr and man;

The interior redemption

 Of the forces that consume you,

 the legend and the pedestal

That goes deep and agitate

 Of the infinite aspiration

In your universal being.

 

Deep and shady soul,

That when closing itself each day,

Under the fruitful silence

Of the serious and calm hours,

teaches the philosophy

 That it discovered for the world,

That learned in the other souls

´

 Two so diverse souls

 As the west of the dawns:

 One, that it passes in the hours;

Another one, that is in the time.