DISTRESS AND SOLITUDE

Cold room of a hotel.

Old wardrobe, mirror and chair,

No stars, my room, a window,

long dark night and without someone,

a dream in the silence, a hope.

 Men walk outside, everywhere,

and beyond the fog, in the warm morning.

There frosted trees, dry land,

 Schools of fish Lost in the water,

 pigeons sleeping on their laps.

 No woman here and I need.

 My heart want to gloat for days with some caress,

a word and the murky shadows

 of the night against walls cast their dark meekness

 slow as the vipers that drag foliage in its wake.

There will only be this woman That time

I have been persecuted And we're like water.

 Your  dark skin over my bones

and my eyes look deep within their caste.

 We'll look a long time,

 many times at the beginning of dawn.

 I try to remember his name,

Tucked into my consciousness With a dark,

hot pencil her lips, her smile,

her words ringing all that attracts me,

 his talk and suspicious words.

She has large breasts,

Emerging voluptuous her waist

and from end to end of the body distances are beautiful:

another of a rose pink pectoral hundred kisses

and equidistant hour a morning

star to another bright star in his eyes a heart,

two streams tears.

I love her from the bottom of all my depths,

And up to the backstop and trembling wings,

 When everything is dust absorbed

And just left a flight of nowhere

And leave the body through every pore

Take flight patient soul Then open the horizons

That ultimately unite our souls.

 It was necessary to love her and not forgotten.

 Because I knew and love her.

 It is so chaste and pure, so warm, so clear, like water.

She Tonight I feel like I'm missing.

Notes of a song from the street

They come to my bed.

Yesterday I saw a beautiful child as dark

Shadow brings

 And I remembered a naughty child

Angered one day to his sweet mother

And perhaps hit With a serious look,

 like the wing of a bird.

I have a better goodbye the everyday GOOD BYE

with everything, GOOD BYE at each instant,

 I boil the illuminated high blood.

Scattered blood, soft night

 A cigar sleepless, sad bed.

Maybe I'll go elsewhere And I take my hand,

 both written and spoken.

And my sleepless eyes,

And my thirsty lips

 Who only know how to say your NAME

- * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * -

9 October 2014

To my belovedELIZABETHY KAMAU

Original Idea: David Alfaro Tello. (DavELIZ)

Coauthor: Alberto Joseph Alfaro Trevi (son)