Author Archives: Andrés de la Esgueva

CLARA

  You coincided in June next to the river Dulce, between full moon and waning moon.   In the distance Venus raised bright as a star.   In the transparent night the universe looked out between the trees; weightless, floating, … Continue reading

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TO DO

    To reach the whole of oneself!   To live one’s own life!   The only poem we are granted to carry out.   Ah, that’s enough dreamed dreams, enough half-truths!   To dream one’s own life, to live … Continue reading

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LIE

Arguments and resources to bury any kind of doubt.   There go things and their evolution lost in time and the stories go hiding from the eyes the very truth.   Faith, ever blind faith!   So they waste men’s … Continue reading

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TO EXIST

  Here and now.   The space short, close, intimate: the distance that doesn’t exist, and the time beautiful, magnificent, thunderous: the instant the world stops.   Let’s embrace each other tight, tight!      

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NOVEL

  Oh, this book has become a duty for us! We need to read it every day.   Pass and pass the pages in a rush, the characters multiply and action get complicated, contradictory, like the bends of a river … Continue reading

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SPRING

  By the calle del Azahar —by Chance Street— I go to the Val de Acederas.   Clear is the morning: white clouds in blue sky; the birds sing, the turtledove coos: the music of the little valley.   The … Continue reading

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TEMPUS FUGIT

  Time flees.   Slow white clouds pass in the light of this star on the blue sky. Grey twilight comes.   On the balcony the recently germinated little plants have been the same for a year.  In the imagination … Continue reading

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POET’S COMMITMENT

  Wake up, poet, and dream!   Open wide those eyes and take a deep breath!   Don’t you notice the blue smell of life that impetuously breaks inside and outside you, calling you; the one thousand worlds that exist … Continue reading

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THE ADVISER

  The christian ascetics had before them the skull to live whithout living in them.   I have before me my death, that tells me: live now.    

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TO OMAR KHAYYAM

  Tonight the moon has Persian highlights.   Silver chirimias woo it in its path among the clouds and the celestial gardens make vibrate its meadow of stars, swollen.   Grabbed with both hands to life’s clay cup I arrive … Continue reading

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