"Donde nada existe, / donde todo soy yo."
Este poema es una descripcion del mundo donde componemos nuestros poemas....
"Where nothing exists, / where everything is me."
This poem is a description of the world where we compose our poems...
ABANDONMENT
I have climbed so high through the world
that I am in the other world,
I am in another distant galaxy.
I have abandoned myself for a while,
I forget to be that other self,
I forget to be what is expected.
For a while I stop being conventional,
I am that other me who exists for no one,
that extragalactic being who is an extraterrestrial.
And I climb to that other planet where dreaming
is the world of sailing within myself,
that world where no one harms me,
the world of feelings,
where searching for my treasures
is the other intimate me.
Where nothing exists,
where everything is me,
in my world,
imperfect,
ephemeral,
where to be
whoever I want,
where to float
in that water,
in that forbidden river,
where to swim naked,
where to see the trees that love,
where the luxury of life becomes real,
in those dreams that reality forbade me,
in that world where dreaming that I swim in the air,
where running without looking, without fearing the forbidden,
in that instant where at the end, where to dream.
In the abandonment of being free to dream.
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ABANDONO
He subido tanto por el mundo,
que estoy en el otro mundo,
estoy en otra galaxia lejana.
Me he abandonado por un rato,
me olvido de ser ese otro mismo,
me olvido de ser lo que se espera.
Por un rato dejo de ser convencional,
soy ese otro yo que no existe para nadie,
ese ser extragaláctico que es un extraterrestre.
Y me subo a ese otro planeta donde soñar
es el mundo de navegar dentro de mí,
ese mundo donde nadie me daña,
es el mundo de los sentimientos,
donde buscar mis tesoros
es el otro yo íntimo.
Donde nada existe,
donde todo soy yo,
en mi mundo,
imperfecto,
efímero,
donde ser
quien quiera,
donde flotar
en ese agua,
en ese río vedado,
donde nadar desnudo,
donde ver los árboles que aman,
donde el lujo de la vida se hace realidad,
en esos sueños que la realidad me prohibió,
en ese mundo donde soñar que nado al aire,
donde correr sin mirar, sin temer a lo prohibido,
en ese instante donde al final, donde soñar.
En el abandono de ser libre de soñar.
-
Author:
Carlos Alberto BUSTILLOS (
Offline) - Published: June 27th, 2026 03:59
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments3
This is indeed the description of another world maybe mental where there is such a thing as freedom. Well written
We all have another side, where we dream, where we have our most intimate self, and sometimes we write about the world of feelings and what is longed for.
Thank you for commenting
You are most welcome Carlos
Enjoy your writing
I have no choice but to write, for I am burning inside and somehow I must explode—and what better way than to tell the day-to-day of life, whether dreamed or real...
Greetings from one writer to another.
Carlos, this really drew me in. I love the idea of poetry as a place we enter rather than something we simply write. The whole piece feels like an inward journey toward a freedom that everyday life rarely allows. Beautiful work, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
My real life is not poetic at all; I am just a poor, exploited public defender in Madrid, one of those whose work isn't enough to make a living, burdened with obligations so that others can live very well. Writing is a release from this life that I have never liked living. It is that other, more intimate side where I can complain and be whoever I want to be, where I can dream of the impossible, and let my inner energy flow between the misery of life and beautiful dreams...
Thank you for diving into these words, which are the gifts of someone distant and increasingly blurred.
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