Lexa

  は愛が何であったか知りませんでした  

Watashi wa ai ga nandeatta ka shirimasendeshita

  - あなたが来るまで  - Anata ga kuru made - 

  今知っているだろう  Ima shitte irudarou.

[Traducción: 

No sabía lo que era el amor

– hasta que llegaste – 

ahora desearía olvidarlo.]

The word work

job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job
job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job
job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job
job job job job word job job job job job job job job job job job j
job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job
job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job
job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job
job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job
job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job
job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job
job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job job
worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth
worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth
worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth word worth
worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth
worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth
worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth
worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth
worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth
worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth
worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth
worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth worth
work work work work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work work work work
work word work work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work work work work
world world world world world world world world world world
world world world world world world world world world world
world world world world world world world world world world
world world world world world world world world world world
world world world world world world world world world world
world world world world world world world world world world

world world world world world world world world world world
world world world world world world world world word world
world world world world world world world world world world
world world world world world world world world world world
     word word word word word word word word word world
     word word word word word word word word word word

         In this world the job must be worth more than words.

S/T

Quiero saber a que sabes,
irme con ese sabor a ti;
enredo de pelo aguamarina
que recorre mis desérticos pensamientos,
par de ojos azafranes
irradiando luz en medio de mis sombras.

Caja de voz olor a miel
en mundo desgraciado y sin sabores,
azúcar morena bañada de sol;
oro sol aderido a mis entrañas, a mi voz.

Quiero saber el sonido de tus manos
frescas y volátiles
sobre el límite de mis pieles.

En la geografía de la piel
las cicatrices son episodios épicos
y yo deseo
enfrentarme a la muerte con sabor a ti.

[Un año, un mes y 3:28 hrs de ser tu amiga.]

Memento mori

私は即座に   Watashi wa sokuza ni   Pienso instante 

呼吸がなかった   Kokyū ga nakatta   respiración que no fue

有限である   Yūgendearu   somos finitos.

No podremos besar más allá de nuestros cuerpos,
ni internarnos en lo profundo de otros sueños;
somos todo lo que podemos cortar con la mirada.

Los dioses fueron muertos con nuestras manos,
no tardaremos en seguir sus pasos,
degradación que habita nuestros cuerpos.

Seremos el instante que ya no fue,
el cuerpo que vuelve al polvo.

_____________________

Memento mori.

®Elihe 

prim 1173

Tierra y polvareda.

Somos mendigos,

los men-di-gos de una sociedad tan polvorienta

estiramos la mano pidiendo un poco de algo que no tenemos.

Llegamos sin trabajo y con estudios,

otros sin nada por que así lo decidieron;

con tierra hecha el alma

para obtener algo,

tierra o nada.

Arena en nuestros zapatos

pidiendo que la otra alma
[igual de] 
polvorienta y extranjera

se apiade de estos extraños

en tierra de nadie.

Mendigamos las sobras

donde no nada hay 
sino

polvos de encierro

que se secan en grumosa garganta

para después irnos como el viento

sin que nadie lo advierta.

Somos mendigos de una suciedad

por no decir socedad polvorienta

que pronto nos echaran fuera:

 polvo eres y en polvo te convertirás.

_____________________________________

® Jardín de Azzabûg oct.2009, 

de Elihe de los escritos impersonales.