Sensitive Souls
Among feathers, hearts suffer,
without wings to escape the pain.
In the skin that traps them, they remain.
Among us, in the other world.
That world of feelings,
where everything is so heightened.
Where souls drown within us,
where hearts take flight.
In the complex world of living,
there are sometimes souls that ache.
-----
ALMAS SENSIBLES
Entre plumas los corazones sufren,
sin alas para poder escapar al dolor.
En la piel que les atrapa, ellos están.
Entre nosotros en el otro mundo.
Ese mundo de los sentimientos,
donde todo es tan exacerbado.
Donde las almas se nos ahogan,
donde los corazones se vuelan.
En el complejo mundo de vivir,
hay a veces almas que duelen.
-----
Âmes Sensibles
Parmi les plumes, les cœurs souffrent,
sans ailes pour fuir la douleur.
Dans la peau qui les retient, ils demeurent.
Parmi nous, dans l’autre monde.
Ce monde des sentiments,
où tout est si exacerbé.
Où les âmes s’étouffent en nous,
où les cœurs s’envolent.
Dans le monde complexe de la vie,
il y a parfois des âmes qui souffrent.
----
15 - XI - 2025
------------
繊細な魂（せんさいなたましい）
羽のあいだで 心は苦しみ、
痛みから逃れる翼もなく。
その皮膚に閉じ込められ、
彼らはそこにいる。
私たちの間に、
ひとつの世界がある。
感情の世界、
すべてが響きわたる場所。
魂はそこで溺れ、
心はそこで舞い上がる。
生きるという複雑な世界の中で、
ときに傷つく魂もある。
----
https://note.com/moral_yarrow5650/n/nacfca88aaa3b
-
Author:
Carlos Alberto BUSTILLOS (
Offline) - Published: November 16th, 2025 13:09
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
Offline)
Comments1
Quite noble of you Bustillos to present poems in more than one language and this one most beautiful in both the English and Spanish that I can read. Loved it
It’s the vanity of wanting to be read. I think of my poems as a gift if they can be read, and I do everything I can so that someone might read them… after all, they are the stories of my life.
Thank you for commenting.
You are most welcome Bustillos and yes I too have found myself with that vanity in the past especially when I first started. The idea of someone else reading and being influenced by a thought and poem of mine. I would guess that, that is a very common feeling among poets and authors. Why else write?
I write to let out everything that eats away at me inside. Deep down, I don’t write for anyone, just as I don’t speak to anyone—it’s simply a way not to keep it all bottled up… a way to free myself from the horror of living. I am a court-appointed lawyer, and it is terrifying.
I am a psychologist and poetry is my therapy
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.