All my thoughts are a mixture
of swift disappointments
and endless efforts.
I stay away from work
more often than I go in.
Excuses make me feel ashamed,
but I pretend to be sick, just so I can be free
to stroll along the shoreline, boarding small boats
to go exploring.
The sea
is beautiful,
and my dreams
are invisible,
but my pen
is strong
and persistent.
I never give up
the flow of poems
aimed at waves
and wind.
Mind storms.
Verse hurricanes.
Stories about gnomes, nymphs,
and palaces of sunlight,
the tale of a man who keeps
a bluebird trapped within the cage
of his mind, even though the poor creature
yearns to be free, soaring alone in endless sky.
I write about verses brought to earth
by dark garzas, the graceful herons
that fly above me each time I go out
exploring.
I write about Chile’s changing seasons,
and Nicaragua’s tropical blossoms,
about every aspect of nature
and human nature,
then I add a fantasy
about the queen of fairies,
who travels in a pearl
pulled by golden beetles.
In this story of long ago,
there was a time when everyone
received a magical gift, either riches, strength,
eagle wings, harmony, rhythm, a rainbow,
sunlight, the melodies of stars,
or the music of jungles . . .
but humans envied each other’s gifts,
bickering and battling, so that now
all of us are always granted the same wish,
receiving only a peaceful blue veil of dreams
for the future—in other words, nothing
but hope.