THE OTHER SODE OF THE BRIDGE/ ARMANDO ARTEAGA

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BRIDGE / ARMANDO ARTEAGA

Everything ends at the bridge
The Dead House on the edge
the abyss
The splendor
The herb lavender
The skill of your eyes
And the brick
red
about
the red wall at the end of the bridge
The Dead House
summer
A bridge ends
In the abyss
Flowers with thorns
red wall house dusty summer butterflies
The purple flowers
aromatic finish on the bridge:
a river without water, dry dust of the earth
Wordsworth grass
splendor
of grass
And your eyes
on the red brick
on the summer house and killed
You see nothing
You look at the ravine
Never seen anything
Everything ends at the bridge
The summer home on the Brink
These plants flowers purple lips
A blue Volkswagen into the ravine
The Yellow Submarine The Beatles
water sailing in the silence of the day
A bridge is a bridge but not only is a link
fragile people
blind deaf mute hard as bricks
The house almost dead on the edge of the abyss
Fall or no fall
The breakwater of a broken bridge
Red Bricks
Dry Fog
The summer home after the fog
A man walking along the edge of the abyss
The eyes of a blind overlooking the infinity
The vines of the façade come apart in the wind
no one helped her up or a thousand shades
crumbling as heavy birds
Wordsworth's poetry hovered
on some dark irises
Ves-view-but you find nothing and no end of light
Not a small point of solar energy
Again the grass fire leaving the Sylvan
a miserable world's particle
A quick thread sun
Again the purple flowers
A dance of lavender
with the wind in the vast abyss of unrelenting sky
A frog croaking
A fervor of autumn leaves
wet and beat around the bush
as slip-bats
For bars forged fierce live delo
Fall or not fall
View or no view
And a quiet silence
Extensive
With the look in your eyes
Again the music splendor grass wind
The time required to wet ground
Think of time in the fall no rain eh ...
Ves-view-but you find nothing
I like the smell of wet earth
Within the field of dry cornfield
The leaves are twisted in the hot sun
Again the rhythm of the waves of heat
No look-say does not feel is not bare land -
It is the presence of a shadow cross
A silvery moon twilight flash
Is launched or not launched
the precipice
Caes or die
In the old reproach
of a fatal accident, everyday
At the edge of a bridge.

Traducción de Erika Cordi....