El Océano (I)

He detenido el tiempo para navegar sin prisa
en un insondable océano vacío, infinito,
en el que las aguas permanecen en calma eterna.

En él mi barco fluye armónicamente,
como una melodía que acaricia mis oídos.

Sin rumbo alguno me dejo llevar
hacia la inmensidad, oscura y pacífica inmensidad
que me envuelve y me hace olvidar.

S. Carmo - Invierno 09/10

Old man's legend

The old man passed, through the narrowest roads.
The old man lived, inside the darkest places.
The old man dreamed, the worst nightmares.
The old man played with his mind
to its ultimate consequences.

And after all, every walk,
and every dream,
every step, and every sorrow,
were made for nothing.

He achieved the highest levels
of glory and pleasure:
the grace of love,
the sublime happiness...

But as he reached his goal,
he lost his soul.

So he went back, to stand in the way
because he preferred to expect
than to get high,
because he preferred to lose
and to look behind.

Come near me

Come near me, come near me
I need to feel your breath
closely, to warm up my senses,
to go back to that magic places
we once dreamed in my bed.

Come near me, come near me
I just want to hold your hand
strongly, for not losing it anymore
to fill your life as I did before
then, I'll be grateful to the end.

The Fool's Song

Fool, stay here just a while,
I need to see you smile
Cause I'm old to pretend
That this time is not the end...

Fool, sing me lullabies
Of worlds becoming wise
Where one can find the bliss.
I hope you rest in peace...

Fool, crying for the moon,
There's still a light in you,
And wherever it may be
will shine around the seas...


Sergio Carmo

Spiral

Frozen meadows reached the hidden corner of the brave heart side,
Broken flower dreams of endless night walks missed,
Mourning mornings darkened the brightest eyes and hopes,
Crying hunger driven alone looking for console.
Twisted roles turning back meaningless and nonsense
Crawling love stories becoming black and white
In filthy corridors and smoking rooms without ground,
Blessed or damned, lost again, and now found.

Sergio Carmo

Do or Doubt?

Pitiless decision carried on my back,
Don’t make filthy games, never mind about what.
Dedication and meaningless fiction
Faced each other at last,
Powerless repetition was burned in anxiety
And there’s no place anymore for contradiction.

Anything at all could be expected,
Sexual affairs and mind disgrace
Are everything one can owe, and then
Elevate myself, chasing souls,
Staring at the wrong picture of my own
Denying human nature… I just don’t know.

Sergio Carmo

Dreams

Hold fast to dreams
for if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
that cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams
for when dreams go
Life is a barren field
frozen with snow.

Langston Hughes

To Nature

It may indeed be fantasy when I
essay to draw from all created things
deep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings;
and trace in leaves and flowers that round me lie
lessons of love and earnest piety.
So let it be; and if the wide world rings
in mock of this belief, it brings
nor fear, nor grief, nor vain perplexity.
So will I build my altar in the fields,
and the blue sky my fretted dome shall be,
and the sweet fragance that the wild flower yields
shall be the incense I will yield to Thee,
Thee only God! and thou shalt not despise
even me, the priest of this poor sacrifice.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Citando a Baudelaire...

Con el corazón en paz ascendí al presidio
desde cuya torre la ciudad se vislumbra:
hospitales, burdeles, prisiones e infiernos
en los que el mal germina cual flor.

Tu sabes, Satán, señor de mi angustia,
que no por vanas lágrimas ascendí a esa hora,
sino que, libertino decrépito y triste,
por libar el placer de la enorme ramera
cuya infernal belleza me hace rejuvenecer.

Ya si duermes de pesados vapores saciada,
saturada del día o, hermosa, te ocultas
tras el dorado encaje del velado atardecer,
te amo, infame ciudad. Las rameras y
los condenados disfrutan placeres
que los seres vulgares nunca comprenderán.

Do not go gentle into that good night (by Dylan Thomas)

Do not go gentle into that good night,
old age should burn and rave at close of day;
rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right
because their words had forked no lightning they
do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
and learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

CAUTIVERIO

Un extraño ser yace en su morada,
observa cuidadosamente el mundo
desde una tétrica ventana.

Un ser sin estímulos ni miras,
que, como todo narcisista,
se relame al tiempo que se mira,
en un tedioso espejo que refleja
cómo se va quedando sin vida.

Mientras descansa, piensa
que el tiempo no existe
y que su ingenua belleza
jamás se desvanece.

Mientras se oculta
en su lúgubre mazmorra
su espíritu se siente
absurdamente libre.

Sergio Carmo

El Regreso del Lobo Negro

Cada invierno el lobo negro retorna a su estepa,
a su cámara de tortura particular,
donde fieras y sucias criaturas,
pretenden robarle su placentero bienestar,
que no es otro sino buscar la dulce cura,
la que invierno tras invierno anhela sin cesar.

El gran lobo negro se viste de cordero,
no hay para él presa digna de espantar
porque en su eterno y cruel destierro
no pocas fueron las presas que tuvo que matar
para no enfermar de hambre y desespero.

Ansioso, vaga por el vetusto bosque para aullar
a la luna en busca de respuesta, de consuelo,
del lugar donde poder doblegarse y anidar,
volverse loco y morir, para empezar de cero.

Sergio Carmo