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viernes, 15 de diciembre de 2017



 he dejado de ser yo,
para ser tu en el poema,
para ser carne en tu carne
y ser tu, en mi suspiro.

Y si en mi voluble debilidad
pecado es mi sobrenombre
y haya en boca extranjera
quien tilde mi servil 
y me trate como una hoja que lleva el rio
entonces en mi débil corazón me glorío

Confieso con mi  silencio
haberte amado.

Autor: Hilario de Jesus Esteban Lopez©
V.C Colecction



En la punta de mi pluma he dejado 
un poquito de amor,
tinta del diástole de tus besos,
¡oh mujer!
linea sobre la sílaba
que te lleva a mi alma.

Sígueme te dicen mis versos,
ámame te grita mi corazón,
amándote estoy en silencio
y en silencio beberé mi soledad
cuando me faltas tu.

Autor: Hilario de Jesus Esteban Lopez©
Colecciones: V.C.

miércoles, 13 de diciembre de 2017



What have you done to me?
what is it the genesis of your soul?
when was the first minute,
that my heart got cleave in you?
which is the savor of your lips?
that, without knowing,
my mouth crave for it.

As those dreams which we did not remember 
but got happiness feelings;
as the sunlight after a darkness 
certain comes afterwards
so, I am craving by the unknown sound of your feet
by the texture of your hands.

My beloved friend, knows I love her
and she love me too...
her melodic voice sing for me
as her soul want it, sleep mine,
I am afraid to be hallucinated 
from the spade of her eyes,
for the rhythm  of her voice.

as those passionate crewman on the ship 
with Ulises on the Iliad of Homer;
their ears did not avoid the deliriously 
singer of the sirens
I do not avoid the ephemeral touch of her love.

Beyond the equinox her soul moans,
my hands struggle to catch her heart
and my arms can not reach her;
sleepwalker in the silence of my thought 
I am , so;
fallen down in the middle of a poem
pronouncing in sotto voce her name,
I am crazy one, with empty hands
shouting a syllable  .

As a essay  bird  its first singing
as a thirsty man on the middle of desert;
I am sick of love , I am dying in the verse 
I am stumble for her love,

I am poisoned through the bone
I can not make it through the winter time,
You are as a tattoo in my mind.

Autor: Hilario de Jesus Esteban Lopez©
From V.C. collection