Brief as the beginning and as the end.

Today Rain of Leaves bring a single poem. But it can give many thoughts, questions and answers about life. However, the intent of a poem is to reach the human heart rather than reason. You can try to explain a lot in a short essay, but what will come as the sight of some verses. I aspire to these that I present in this moment are good enough, but if they are not, the reader complete them with his patience and intelligence.

The end and beginning on a poem

The end is near

Every moment

occurs

a new

beginning.

The end is near

at every boot,

on each attempt,

each feint

of be.

The end

is the origin

of all change.

The transformation

is the only

permanent

in this world,

on this  earth

of mutations.

Love waits,

quiet,

expected

his time

and becomes immortal.

Poetry, a universal feeling

Poetry can be used many ways although not from our culture, they adapt perfectly to the universal feeling that this art wants to convey. Therefore I present today a form of Haiku poems and one in the form of Tanka, with other short poems absolutely free. In the case of Haiku or Tanka, I have not observed in the translation the metric that characterizes them. Only the spirit of brevity and surprise that they contain about the nature and the human spirit.
I hope the reader is kind and dares to make me comment.

Several brief poems

Step by the days

and then

them again

in search of forgotten.

Find

only

elusive

memories

and vertigo

in the dust of the trail. 

By way of Haiku and Tanka

  

Enlightens us
a kiss from the clouds.
Lightning.

Startles us
Deep voice from heaven
The thunder speaks.

With the gray layer,
of the rain that comes,
the sun is covered.


Among the clouds
tired of the rain
the sun explodes


The wind, alone,
tells his secrets
the dark


Step approach.
Inner silence
us evidence.


Travel Home
the shadow follows me
because I have light.


The clouds run away
they leave the clear night
breeze friend.


Fresh air
makes the leaves fall
Other grow.

Look at the sky
and its distant nest
the bird concerned.
Solitary chicks
herd in silence.

A few steps in another language

                                                 

This is just an attempt to show something of what I write in a language that is not my original language. But like many citizens of the world, we often use to understand, to communicate, to exist in harmony.

This is just a test, as any modest start, a sample of what may be this blog in future editions. Comprised of the poetry, short essay and stories, will explore all these genres and will be expanded by drawing on her brother blog Lluvia de Hojas.

I ask the reader patience and understanding as well as contributions on observations and opinions to make this a Rain of Leaves.

Three poems of resurrection

I have returned
beside the grave
where it once was.
I want to find signs
my resurrection.
There they are.
Broken shrouds.
The chipping and empty coffin.
Disturbed soil, soaked by rain.
Silence.
I walked up here
to see the hollowness
and no meeting
There is no longer known.
I am reborn.

Extensa Brevedad

The thick knot
I choked
was not the sentence
death
but of melancholy
I sentenced
to live
every moment
as the last
being the first
of endless suffering.

Until you came,
with something better than a pardon,
with pure love
and your tender hand
I got rid of the heavy rope
and band
of convicted blinded
you to live intensely
the entire rest of infinite life
we have left.

At the beginning of life

The last
instantaneous
deadly surprise
of which one ignores soon.
 

This moment
of consciousness
is just the way
another moment
deep sleep.

Nothing definite.

The resurrection of dawn
or the shock of the deep night
I returned,
land through
on a tear,
this prolonged dream
my watch
where my only relief
is proof of your presence
companion of my thoughts
owner of my joys,
treasurer of my sorrows,
love does not happen,
eternal life.

In Instant