You give meaning to my joy, and complement the rose garden that I managed to create with my chimeras.
[author title=”Ramina Herrera Arteaga” image=”https://sindhcourier.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/Ramina-Artigo-Peru-Sindh-Courier.jpg”]Ramina Herrera Arteaga, born in Luya, Amazonas, Peru in 1979, is a Business Administrator by profession. She graduated from the National University of Trujillo. Her poetry “Memories of Unborn” was published online by the magazine “Voices” of Spain. In 2006 it was included in the anthology “Caminos de Poesía” (Editorial Fund of the Provincial Municipality of Cajamarca. She has been awarded many prestigious recognition for her writing.[/author]
Sky
My sky blue
Immense,
Handsome
Same mirror
Of your beautiful universe,
You give meaning to my joy
And complement the rose garden
That I managed to create with my chimeras,
Perfect accomplice
Sleepless early mornings
Of suspicious exits
Of desperate pencils
Drowning in the temptation
From the well that emanates
From that star so far away
And so close to our gaze.
Lover of letters
That you write with the ink of your lineage
You hang out with Borges, Sábato, Cortázar
Gabo, Charles, Eielson, Varela,
And countless mythical beings
That surrounds you and surrounds me
In whirlwinds of words
Sensations,
Broken, patched, human follies,
That gives us hope
Hope or sweet agony
That dies in the mouth
In afternoons with cold and drizzle
Like today
In the middle of the square
In a short talk
You … in the light of a heartbeat … you
***
CAELUM (Latin)
Mi azul cielo,
inmenso,
hermoso,
mismo espejo
de tu bello universo,
das sentido a mi alegría
y complementas el jardín de rosas
que logré crear con mis quimeras,
cómplice perfecto
de madrugadas insomnes
de mutis sospechosos
de lapiceros desesperados
ahogándose en la tienta
del pozo que emana
de aquella estrella tan lejana
y tan cercana de nuestra mirada.
Amante de las letras
que escribes con la tinta de tu linaje
andas con Borges, Sábato, Cortázar
Gabo, Charles, Eielson, Varela,
e innumerables míticos seres
que te envuelven y me envuelven
en torbellinos de palabras
sensaciones,
locuras rotas, parchadas, humanas,
que nos dan esperanza
esperanza o dulce agonía
que mueren en la boca
en tardes con frío y llovizna
como hoy
a mitad de la plaza
en una breve plática.
Tú… en la luz de un latido… tú
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