Landscape of Pyrenees
Photograph by my Aragonese friend
Migalánchel MartĂn Pardos
Humble people, humble people,
how beautiful you are,
always living in the gardens
of the heart,
children of heaven.
In the streets of this village,
in Aragon,
rains.
Now my village
is a Scottish village.
How beautiful the music of drops!
The Highlands.
And my cat, now,
in the distant house,
watching through the window...
But here I'm now,
twittering. Raining.
My poor, poor,
solitary cat.
Dying,
my dog raised his head
to see,
for the last time,
beloved deserts.
Night.
And then you smile.
Sunshine.
As the work of astrologers
is mapping all the stars,
poets also have a task:
they are always mapping
universes of the heart.
Writing in English
I never studied English
Surreal worlds
At school
Studying French
My childhood
The day my grandmother died
a thousand words died forever.
Every single day a language dies.
What a silence...
I love you.
So you can fly,
if you want,
into the Infinite.
Trembling stars.
And a million of worlds speaking,
millions of lights speaking,
millions of souls speaking,
in the language of Silence.
Some years ago,
I used to go to dance
on saturday night.
Now,
here I'm,
studying metaphysics.
Jewels around the Heart:
An elegant woman.
Juan Bielsa
