For her, for the poet, the exact weight of the symbol is lost. He observes it as if a god allowed himself to suffer. Her pupils carry the memory of the ruins. No, they feel safe because of the hypocrisy of the learned gestures, because the days are torn by the blue wind grapes. She is as extreme as women who refuse to burn without choosing fire.
There is no cruelty in the people of your love who die without hatred, and there is chaos without gratuitous violence in your average predator routine. A dream about her, about the poet, about Leonor Patakiabout which he writes Summer madeja (Looks), there is no thought, no escape, no prophecy. For this reason, no fight has passed to hide the eyes, which are perceived as a scream in the wind, consuming everything.
With his verses of immovable love he built temples amidst the ruins of desolation. Sometimes for this reason love your love without anxiety. To her You are not interested in asking if the price is the return because he can’t stand fear. A flow between rock and turf with an intact soberanía inside the deep sadness and immense earth. In your skin – he tells her – there is a lack of sun, the dust of amaryllis covered with gold. And love is not demanded but negotiated.
The poet deciphers the rumor of lejanía anterior to memory. Don’t listen in silence. There is a condensed presence, but I don’t hope for what justifies it. From his freedom without a horizon, from his hogar without an encierro, he chose a beloved couch and only the dignity of a world in ruins over the languor of gold.
The poet sees in her eyes the reflection of the immense light within all fronts remained in their eyes because nothing is more necessary than the moment you live. Carpe diem quam minimum credula postero. It is absurd to reclaim spaces, to claim memories, to lose ourselves in a shared future with the certainty of indifference.
An impressive book read, “A madeja de estambre” (Premio Loewe de Poesía a la Creación Gioven) by Mexican poet Leonor Pataki
The world of love is the sacred disorder of what cannot be donebut he insists on noting, from tibia language that does not seek oquedad, that such an order is another form of myth, a prison of enforced symmetry. It is enough to live with solidarity when someone shares a child.
The world is always the sea for him, and in its fire – wild, gentle, without nostalgia – hides the promise that not all beautiful things will be useful. There are days when you will learn more about your loved one’s breathing than the thousand books below. Borda heralds the fire circle of respect because you know he’s looking for it love, loss, beauty.
The future is transformed into a space for discovery, a sidereal space, a man who is not divided, who is not scattered, who sinks into his dark, hidden solitude. He, the one who loved her, gazes with the attention of one who contemplates the mysteries of the world, as the mystery of the summer of his life, which is in the hands of the air, unfolds. Play with the wind and weigh yourself fearlessly in the labyrinth of today. Y in the lofty gesture of no exigir, peace enters.
Love, at its end, no araña, no empuja, no crying. He offers the whole body as a vibration and constantly meditates on it without asking. Pain is not over, it is a condition of existence. It has no end, it is only the other side of indecision, the one that merges with light by day and settles without hope and hope at night.
Freedom for the poet and for her love is the same essence of existence, and death does not exist in the late gesture, as long as it is poured in the silent presence, in the echo. Loneliness is expressed as the essence of true love, not as a lost verse or as abandonment. It is about the eternity contained in the breath because death is not finalin one step, a return to totality.
Impressive book, I read this, Summer madeja (Premio Loewe de Poesía a la Creación Gioven). Its author is the Mexican poet Leonor Pataki; love is it, the cat of Cheops, which four thousand years ago in classical Egypt lives in the warmth of the hogares who anchored it around the world.
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