There is something in the afternoon
that I can’t name.
A silence drifts—
descending from the mountain,
entering without haste,
as though it were a visitor
familiar with my soul,
drawing near
like a soft, blessing breeze,
barely felt.
It slips through my window
and stays beside me.
And so we remain
in the quiet of the fading light.
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Author:
rrodriguez (
Offline) - Published: October 6th, 2026 19:16
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 6
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
A lovely poem with which I can identify. It is warm and soft and fades into night. A fave
I first wrote this poem in Spanish and then translated it into English. But as I worked on the English version, I realized that it needed more than a literal translation. I kept revising it, listening to the language, and allowing the poem to find its own rhythm and voice. In the end, the English version became its own poem—distinct from the Spanish original, although born from the same idea
Thank you very much for taking the time to read my poem. I truly appreciate your time, your attention, and your willingness to enter into the world of the poem.
I have done this before too Rodriguez from Portuguese to English and found that the poem changes. You are most welcome my freind
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