My soul is wet with the tears of impossible things

By and | 2 February 2001

“My soul is wet with the tears of impossible things”
— Federico Garcia Lorca, ‘Todo será el corazón’

On the surface of the eternal soul
hundreds of verses moistened
with our lives that have grown sick and weary.

I carry names in my heart,
chewing the dew of memory
like a man punished with impossible longings.

I carry in my memory wet traces of hope
long forgotten in my heart
like the impossible scent of love.

I have the longing for poems,
I read them on a page I kiss with my eyes
like light from some unrealisable heaven.

I carry flowers, orphaned stars
fallen from my sky …
I carry kisses wet with the rain
I planted one day in a park of impossible trees.

My soul’s chained to the old door of dreams,
I read my poems to light up a possible dawn for my life.

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