Sunday, February 2, 2020

Irene Mercedes Aguirre writes

   “ll  y a un autre monde, mais il est dans celui-ci” (Paul Éluard)

Vital Tension 

We did not quicken our step 
just to wander aimlessly 
blind to the objective of life 
cloyed by things, without destiny. 

 Nor did we conquer the word 
just to waste it, starved of sense 
nor form a vocabulary 
as a simple device for sound.

Somehow, mysteriously 
if the human being looks up to the skies 
it will be possible to grasp other rhythms 
to open up spaces for our desires.

For in the labyrinth of the minds 
within their inner tissue, deep folds, 
we will sense the heavy beating, 
the muffled rumour of other worlds.

Within those intimate palpitations  
we will capture our own essence, 
a memorious cadence of the genes 
forged in the depths of time!

From within, we will later emerge, 
and from up high, come down straight away, 
and between the sky and the earth, elbow to elbow, 
we will build a life, if we try!

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