Melancólico, o vento assobia a sua canção
do amanhecer.
O vento toma em seus braços as flores
do campo e as tira para dançar, e com elas
dança.
Ele dança, toma o seu corpo frágil e, sem
cuidado, atira-a de um lado para o outro,
rodopia, torce-a e a contorce fazendo-a
vergar-se ao chão.
Flexível como a loucura da paixão, ao ser
Flexível como a loucura da paixão, ao ser
torcida e contorcia pelo vento, a flor exala
o seu suave perfume e o deixa perfumar o
amanhecer.
O vento vai e volta mais rápido do foi!
Como um louco apaixonado toma a flor
outra vez em seus braços e mais uma vez
com ela dança.
Ele dança ao ritmo do seu assobiar, e
assobia sempre a mesma canção.
O vento sopra em rodopios e contorções,
ele contorce e torce o corpo frágil da flor
que verga sob a fúria do seu soprar.
A flor verga até o chão e na relva se deixa
amar pelo vento que, enquanto a ama,
sussurra ao seus ouvidos a sua
melancólica canção.
Para o vento, a fúria do seu soprar nada
mais é que uma dança.
Soprando ele toma a flor em seus braços
e a tira para dançar.
O vento baila e o seu bailar acompanha
o ritmo do seu melancólico assobiar.
A canção do vento é fria, tão fria quanto
o frio que agasalhando os corações.
Linda como as noivas a flor do campo
dança, e ao sopro do vento se torce, se
contorce, rodopia seguindo os passos do
vento sem argumentar.
O Observador - Chuy, janeiro de 2015
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The wildflower
Melancholic, the wind whistles its song
of dawn.
The wind takes the flowers in its arms
from the field and takes them to dance, and with them
dances.
He dances, takes her fragile body and, without
care, throws her from one side to the other,
spins it, twists it, and contorts it, making it
bend to the ground.
Flexible as the madness of passion, when being
twisted and contorted by the wind, the flower exhales
its gentle perfume and lets it scent the
dawn.
The wind goes and comes back faster than it was!
Like a madman in love, he takes the flower
again in his arms and once more
with her he dances.
He dances to the rhythm of her whistling, and
he always whistles the same song.
The wind blows in whirls and twists,
it twists and contorts the fragile body of the flower
that bends under the fury of its blowing.
The flower bends to the ground and in the grass lets itself
love by the wind that, while it loves her,
whispers in your ears its
melancholic song.
To the wind, the fury of its blowing is nothing
but a dance.
Blowing, he takes the flower in his arms
and takes her to dance.
The wind dances and its dance accompanies
the rhythm of its melancholic whistling.
The song of the wind is cold, as cold as
the cold that warms the hearts.
Beautiful as the brides, the wildflower
dances, and at the breath of the wind, it twists, it
twists, spins following the steps of the
wind without arguing.
of dawn.
The wind takes the flowers in its arms
from the field and takes them to dance, and with them
dances.
He dances, takes her fragile body and, without
care, throws her from one side to the other,
spins it, twists it, and contorts it, making it
bend to the ground.
Flexible as the madness of passion, when being
twisted and contorted by the wind, the flower exhales
its gentle perfume and lets it scent the
dawn.
The wind goes and comes back faster than it was!
Like a madman in love, he takes the flower
again in his arms and once more
with her he dances.
He dances to the rhythm of her whistling, and
he always whistles the same song.
The wind blows in whirls and twists,
it twists and contorts the fragile body of the flower
that bends under the fury of its blowing.
The flower bends to the ground and in the grass lets itself
love by the wind that, while it loves her,
whispers in your ears its
melancholic song.
To the wind, the fury of its blowing is nothing
but a dance.
Blowing, he takes the flower in his arms
and takes her to dance.
The wind dances and its dance accompanies
the rhythm of its melancholic whistling.
The song of the wind is cold, as cold as
the cold that warms the hearts.
Beautiful as the brides, the wildflower
dances, and at the breath of the wind, it twists, it
twists, spins following the steps of the
wind without arguing.
$
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