Tags
Horacio Lobos Luna, literature, lobosluna, lyric, poem, poetry
Caravaggio. “Sleeping Cupid”
The child who used to look up
the stars waiting for
a distant call
from heaven
has fallen asleep.
Let him rest
in the slight smile
that has painted on him
the dream of oncoming days.
Who would dare
to disturb such sweet repose?
The tiny
blue world he sails through.
The powerfull wings
that in the deep
pulse of his chest
are opened and spread.
The tinkling mirth
of thousand imps
surrounding him
and bringing him back
and taking him away,
and bringing him back
and taking him away.
The embrace of firmament
riddled with bright
shavings
that rocks him
on its bosom of wakes,
as a prodigal
son of songs
and chimeras.
Why disturb
the leaves of a sleepless
foliage that do not understand
about dreams?
I watch him from
the brief distance
of days
and hours
that fade away in time,
and I guard
the soft texture of the silence.
Why wake him up?
Let him rest
with his slight burden of moons
bright as fireflies.
On the eager waiting
he has fallen asleep.
So silent and distant
remains the heaven that
not even awakes him.
Searing Words 