Poema… lo viejo, lo nuevo

lo viejo, lo nuevo

–3 de mayo de 2019–
springfield, ohio

por Luis S. González-Acevedo

♪♫ segundos a minutos, minutos a horas ♪♪♪
el tiempo canta sin descanso…
te intimida para ver si lloras,
me fustiga hasta el quebranto.
espera que le beses,
me amenaza con días y meses,
y para ambos se declara ajeno:
como un verdugo torturándonos con su tictac, tictoc:
un bolero mal sufrido
que conduce el desgraciado con manecillas de reloj.
libro nuevo… como el ya leído.
páginas nuevas mueren como césped en el invierno.
canciones nuevas… como las ya cantadas:
sus muertes vuelan como aves aturulladas,
deseando que lo viejo cambie a nuevo.
delicia… fin del día
cuando las luces se apagan,
el calor enfría,
la consciencia oscurece,
el alma libera su llamarada,
la vida misma se estremece,
y los que aman quedan sin nada.
es cierto…
el momento llega para todos, para ti, para mí,
cuando todo queda al descubierto,
tiene que ser así:
lo eterno es temporero,
lo impredecible es predecible,
lo que sorprende es común,
y el único remedio para este estado lamentable
sigue siendo aún
nuestro último aliento liberado
–por el tiempo, nadie es ignorado–

lo viejo, lo nuevo será publicado en un libro de poemas e historias en julio 2020–


 

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Poem… the old, the new

A new poem I wrote a couple of days ago…


the old, the new

–april 7, 2019–
springfield, ohio

by Luis S. González-Acevedo

seconds turn to minutes, then hours
without rest, all clocks inevitably run.
days fade to months because time is never ours,
and it’s far from fun
when sand spills through life’s hourglass.

new books read like those i’ve read before
new pages die in winter much like summer’s grass.
new songs sound like those already heard
their demise takes on the flight of a flustered bird
in hope that old turns new once more.

is it this?
is this it?
might it be that?
might that be it?

delightful is day’s end
when lights must flicker out,
consciousness grows dark,
souls give up their sparks,
vitality bends,
and those who love must do without.

it’s true…
the moment comes for all, for me, and you,
when what was unpredictable is predictable,
what once surprised becomes expected,
what could be everlasting turns perishable,
and the only cure for this untimely state lamented
is a timely final breath accepted.


the old, the new will appear in a future book of poems and stories (release date | July 2020)–


 

Poem… life on hold

life on hold

–july 3, 2018–

méxico city, méxico

by Luis S. González-Acevedo


life on hold…

waste of a story
left untold.

i think… go where you want to be ¡be bold!
beware… avoid the folly
by clicking out of life’s pause and into play.

remember… perfect moments don’t exist
wishes run with slight or much delay
re$our€es merely al£ow us to subsist
the time for what matters is seldom right.

the future is guaranteed to come
believe you me, for life there’s no rewrite
mostly, it arrives when we’re undone
and the price for its grand entrance is our fine:
our breaths paid for in the currency of time.


life on hold will appear in a future book of poems and stories (release date | July 2020)–



 

Poema… vida en paro

vida en paro

–4 de julio de 2018–

ciudad méxico, méxico

por Luis S. González-Acevedo


vida en paro…

el desperdicio de una historia
sin contar, víctima de existencial estrago.

pienso… ¡sé valiente! ve donde quieras con euforia
cuidado… evita la idiotez
hazle clic a “pause” y comienza “play.”

te darás cuenta cuando llegue la vejez
que el pasar del tiempo es ley
la vida es un juego de ajedrez
y £os re€ur$os con el tiempo disminu¥en.

el futuro garantiza su llegada
recuerda… los segundos y minutos, las horas huyen
llega cuando nuestro estado es frágil y somos nada
al fin, con la moneda del tiempo pagamos el precio
y el reloj del universo nos contempla con desprecio.


vida en paro será publicado en un libro de poemas e historias en julio 2020–


 


 

Poem… Time

Time

(translation|modification of Tiempo)

by Luis S. González-Acevedo

Time passes effortlessly in childhood.
Grains of sand form their cone quickly.
As children, we close our eyes without seeing the disgrace
of a potential death forging its throne.

Cheerful spring of laughs and fables,
of games, projects and days without time…
Life is a sweet and fanciful invention
that at each moment hastens its tempo.

Adjacent is the kingdom of adolescence,
replete with dominative spirits in pursuit of conquests.
With the governance of enigmatic minds,
the youthful proceed in confusing ways.

Years of Puberty, season without equal…
You awaken Aphrodite, sleeping in childhood.
You’re the channel
through which youth reaches nascent adulthood.

Adults, destroyers of the past…
Living instants of sweet present,
and expecting to live a yearned for future
in familial love: among blood, our people.

Time provides the seeds
for the harvest of spring infants.
March, April and May submit to summer’s hold,
so it may love them with severe tenderness.

Smiling… Following their first steps…
Phonemes ascend from their lips
and fall, decorating the sky
and becoming crowns for gods and the wise.

Inevitable winter, who called you?
Who erroneously told you that autumn was dead?
If I ignored you in the spring,
I now consider you deceased.

Eternally, I’ll reign over summer.
Winter turned back its forces.
Time will lash my life in vain,
envying the mortal who overcame it.


–You can find the poem in Caribbean Poet, by Luis S. González-Acevedo or the original version in Spanish in Poemas Caribeños, por Luis S. González-Acevedo–