
I
Saxophone,
blues,
bite,
deluge,
eyes the color of night.
Jazz,
pretexts.
II
Drinking lemonade
in the figuration of your body...
Crystal,
sugar on its edges,
corner of lips to stitch the scar.
Pause,
a poet is an arrow
wounded by the wind.




I
Saxofón,
blues,
mordida,
diluvio,
ojos en el color de la noche.
Jazz,
pretextos.
II
Beber limonada
en la figuración de tu cuerpo...
Cristal,
azúcar en sus bordes,
comisura de labios para coser la cicatriz.
Pausa,
un poeta es una flecha
herida por el viento.



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“A poet is an arrow
Wounded by the wind”
That line interested me.
Nice poetry.
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