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JUAN POMPONIO

 
 

 

Petals Of Sand

 

 

Old prophecies 

they announce your skin. 

I write without ink in the sky 

and your name appears, 

Small flowers that shine the night. 

The tide arrives, 

nocturnal music that unfolds 

Sounds without time. 

In audacious waves 

the rocks explode, 

they pronounce your absence. 

Dream without the ink on the land: 

of your smile petals fly 

they gone to sleep of moon. 

They leave your fragrance, 

They draw your name in the sand.

 

 

 

Fragrance Forgot

 

 

A seed falls on your skin: 

oranges they grow and flowers, 

birds fly 

- they fly free of every pardon -. 

they travel infinite distances, 

they fly and they return, 

They return and they go. 

They seek the perfume buried 

-they say that is that of your sex -. 

Hidden among old roots,

 each beating of the fragrance 

it pronounces your name, 

your name written in sap.