"En mi páramo desolado y estéril"(Poesía) // "In my desolate and barren wasteland"(Poetry) 》 [Esp-Eng]

✍️ No, no me señales en mi mudez.
Ayer, irreductible, rudo y locuaz.
No me consagré, tal vez por isanía, a conjugar un sagrado ideal, por la placidez de una existencia.

¡De veras que no lo intenté...!

No escalé, a ciegas, montañas escarpadas.
No me lancé a las aguas turbias y profundas para encontrar la gruta.
Parapeto y umbral del equilibrio y la sensatez.
Sólo empiné, una y otra vez, mi papalote.
Y con él, mis sueños de volar alto, muy alto para alcanzar la bandada de veloces aves que se teñían de nubes.

Pero no pudo ser.

Hoy pertenezco al aviario, a la quitud y el silencio.
Soy antifaz en un montículo de amnesia.
Mero asunto de geriatras y asistencistas, en mi páramo, desolado y estéril...

_{☛ /Contenido original de mi autoria.
Imagen Pixabay. Banner creados por mí. Separadores de uso libre. Traducción: Google translate./}

✍️ No, don't point at me in my muteness.
Yesterday, I was irreducible, rude, and talkative.
I didn't dedicate myself, perhaps out of madness, to conjugating a sacred ideal, by the placidity of an existence.

I really didn't try...!

I didn't blindly climb steep mountains.
I didn't throw myself into the deep, murky waters to find the grotto.
Parapet and threshold of balance and common sense.
I only hoisted my kite, again and again.
And with it, my dreams of flying high, very high to reach the flock of swift birds that were tinged with clouds.

But it wasn't to be.

Today I belong to the aviary, to stillness and silence.
I am a mask on a mound of amnesia.
A mere matter for geriatricians and medical assistants, in my wasteland, desolate and barren...

_{☛ /Original content by me.
Image from Pixabay. Banner created by me. Separators are free to use. Translation: Google translate./}