Fernando Delgadillo
Miscellaneous
Of the Pilgrim Loves
I thought on the way to the sea
Punta Maroma
which is of love and the aroma
which is of the moon and its round
and house of the sun of the place.
There where the green sea
is no longer light, when it loses
the intangible, to become
an immense and green reality.
Early, in the morning
with the light multiplied
in the infinite reflections
of that sea, the voice of a bell
where the watchful lighthouse
I place The south towards Levante
I'm going in search of those ports
where I don't see memories.
I am leaving myself nostalgic
after nostalgia on the road
that I gathered in the summer flight
of your pilgrim loves
and between ocher and russet
brown tones and swallows
from other afternoons brushstrokes
Was it love or was it the coat
of your lips?
That today present
for absent ones
have led me to remember.
To the sea, to the sea
guess by guessing what attracts me
towards the Caribbean
where the eye cannot reach
to go up its free space
where the The moon is silver and oblivion tastes like salt.
I return on my way to the sea
sea of u200bu200bmy soul, which for some time
lessens the pain
of the homeless traveler
Perhaps yesterday was a dream
and your crazy love fantasy
of a heated night
that entangling I lost myself
because you were forever
and when you were for me.
I only know how to say
with my eyes closed
that the pain of not having you today
in the end it became more
prolonged and strong
than the joy that he will find
with you.
To the sea, to the sea
guess by guessing
that pushes me to its domains
where the trails depart
and promise the paths
sea where I dream them They themselves
learned to fly
I return on my way to the sea
sea of u200bu200bmy soul
that has long subsided the pain
of the homeless traveler.

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