Poem: The German Lakes

Hello friends, it's been a long time since I shared one of my poems with you, I hope you enjoy it.

Estela's grandfather, Herr Barnack,
who came to Cuba in other years.
He carried the Soviet future in his hands.

He spoke to me of German lakes
and the love of a Berlin lady.

I don't recall a love like that, with memorable lakes
or small pools where one could simulate
the proud presence of names.

But there she is, the girl from Berlin
sitting in a café with gray awnings
reading a writer from the tropical islands
who is still unknown and writes these verses:

I prefer to sit before the immensity of the sea.

This endless lake, where I cannot find the horizon,
the future that had already been written by others.

The immensity of the islands.

The salt of these mutilated islands
that still
do not need to be returned to me.

_{The text is AI-free, Google translated and proofread by me.
The acknowledgments were created in Canva
The photos are my property}