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THE WANDERING THOUGHT
Through the winding streets of the mind,
within the sensitive heartbeat,
the antechamber of fear,
my wandering thought
travels abandoned pathways,
through blue smiles and gray tears,
to the multicolored melody of memories.
I
draw back the curtains,
I see the uncertainty of tomorrow,
and I imagine lilies scattered everywhere,
the magic springtime.
The wandering thought
climbs to the summits of winter
and, from the precipice, its landscape
is one of black storm clouds.
If
one day consciousness awakens
and crosses the distance,
bringing the caress of its hands,
the deluge shall no longer lash against my window;
a clear and transparent horizon
will fill our gaze,
and the wandering thought
will rest at home.
Emma-Margarita R.
A.-Valdés
Traductora:
Vekas Rodica
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