“And I have loved thee, ocean! and my joy / of youthful sports was on thy breast to be / borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy / I wantoned with thy breakers”, extract from Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Lord Byron, 1813
FEAR (Luis Fernandez Antelo)
Would you indulge in your self destruction?
Would you see yourself bleeding to death on TV?
Would you blink,
Or would you rather wonder about afterlife?
This is no Haiku,
I even doubt I can find a rythm,
But I can find love somewhere,
(if you’ll give me a minute)
for there has always been love in sadness,
You can count on that,
As there has been always self-loathing in hatred,
Pity in mortification,
Charity in rightfully provoked death.
Do you really know that the others die?
Have ever really thought that the next might be you?
Do you Know about death?
I don’t, and that’s why I fear her.
So come, and let’s talk, and the killer
Shall fade away.
3 comentarios:
Precioso poema.
¿¿Sabes que hace tiempo yo puse un poema mío en mi blog con esa imagen también?? Qué coincidencias... pero era la imagen misma del poema... inconsciente colectivo...
Is it physical death that you fear or, rather, the possibility that something can happen thereafter? Regarding the former, being inevitable, ignorance is bliss. In relation to the latter, being unfathomable, idem.
My dear Juan, as Faerie stated, there is a powerful common subconscious which is in some way fire-sealed to our minds. What I have tried to transmit with my modest lines, was already stated and priorly expressed by a certain british bard, a certain arab colective writer and a certain blind greek (id est, shakespeare, arabian nights and Homer). Fear of what dreams may come after we have shuffled off this mortal coil do presume a level of metaphisical existence afer death in which I do firmly believe, as you also do, regardless of your continual denial. Take care both of you et merci, Faerie, de continuer là. Bonne séance à Segovia
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