Fuente
Hola amigos de nuestro maravilloso multiverso del ecosistema hive en la web 3.
Estos días de médicos y tratamientos muy fuertes me ha dado por escribir un poco de poesía, y muchas veces está se alimenta de cuánto hay a mi alrededor.
Esta semana pude contemplar una ruptura, de alguien que en su momento amó mucho a esa otra persona, lo que me inspiró a escribir un poco sobre ese proceso de despedirse de ese compañero que elegimos, y que por una u otra causa, se agotan los sentimientos entre ellos, dando paso al adios.
O quizás es producto de tanta medicina que me hace ver cosas más grandes de lo que son.
El hecho es que estos versos me fueron acorralando en este pequeño cuarto de reposo, y decidí compartirlos con ustedes, con la esperanza de que sean de su agrado.
Siempre he dicho que la poesía no siempre es lo que dice su autor, sino que su magia está en lo que despierta en quien la lee, o en palabras de Mario Ruopollo, (aquel cartero de Neruda en Italia): "La poesía no pertenece a aquellos quienes la escriben, sino a aquellos que la necesitan".
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Fuente
El adiós.
Cada que amaneció te perdí un poco
Cada silencio
Cada estrepitoso segundo
Cada palabra.
El tiempo fue mellando todo
Como el agua, que nada le detiene
Cómo la luz, que en ondas nos arropa
En micro segundos quizá.
Tal vez es el silencio
Que da paso al final
Cómo una mirada vaga, desabrida
O la costumbre
La de ser, o el estar
Sin ser.
Todo pasa tan lento
Tan espaciado, tan triste
Que no ves el final
Sino hasta que es muy tarde.
Tarde para los dos
Tarde, porque no viene nada más
Y lo que hay
Ya no es suficiente.
Y en esos segundos simples
En ese silencio puro, gigantesco
Quedamos los dos dormidos
Destrozados
Con las manos vacías.
![Linea azul.jpg](https://images.hive.blog/768x0/https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/gilliatt/23zGcJ54MDhed6WZxjDuEXWrYXheohzQFRUnkoxvqgYu7xPPrJ1fQTWnks9taupx97uGZ.jpg)
![photo_2023-07-16_15-29-53.jpg](https://images.hive.blog/768x0/https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/gilliatt/23uEz2rPvDLexHzjQ2RqtXaQV8gSpu2ZFSQoB89cQ9qVWaeAXpFS6uisUqfDEeZpzd6sS.jpg)
English.
![Linea azul.jpg](https://images.hive.blog/768x0/https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/gilliatt/23zGcJ54MDhed6WZxjDuEXWrYXheohzQFRUnkoxvqgYu7xPPrJ1fQTWnks9taupx97uGZ.jpg)
Source
Hello friends of our wonderful multiverse of the hive ecosystem on web 3.
These days of doctors and very strong treatments have given me the urge to write a bit of poetry, and often it is fed by what is around me.
This week I was able to contemplate a break-up, of someone who at the time loved that other person very much, which inspired me to write a little about that process of saying goodbye to that partner we chose, and that for one reason or another, the feelings between them run out, giving way to saying goodbye.
Or maybe it is a product of so much medicine that makes me see things bigger than they are.
The fact is that these verses were cornering me in this little rest room, and I decided to share them with you, in the hope that they will be to your liking.
I have always said that poetry is not always what its author says, but that its magic lies in what it awakens in those who read it, or in the words of Mario Ruopollo (Neruda's postman in Italy): "Poetry does not belong to those who write it, but to those who need it.
![Linea azul.jpg](https://images.hive.blog/768x0/https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/gilliatt/23zGcJ54MDhed6WZxjDuEXWrYXheohzQFRUnkoxvqgYu7xPPrJ1fQTWnks9taupx97uGZ.jpg)
Source
The Farewell
Every time it dawned I lost you a little bit
Every silence
Every shuddering second
Every word.
Time has dented everything
Like water, which nothing can stop it
Like the light, that in waves envelops us
In micro seconds perhaps.
Maybe it is the silence
That gives way to the end
Like a vague, unsavoury look
Or the habit
Of be, or being
Without being.
Everything goes by so slow
So spaced out, so sad
That you don't see the end
Until it's too late.
Late for both of us
Late, because nothing else is coming
And what there is
Is no longer enough.
And in those simple seconds
In that pure, gigantic silence
We both fell asleep
Shattered
Empty-handed.
Crédits.
The text and the entire work are my own.
Images free of copyright, with their respective sources.
For the English language I used the Deepl tool.
The translation is provided as a reference to give the English-speaking reader a clearer idea of the content of the work.
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![photo_2023-07-16_15-29-53.jpg](https://images.hive.blog/768x0/https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/gilliatt/23uEz2rPvDLexHzjQ2RqtXaQV8gSpu2ZFSQoB89cQ9qVWaeAXpFS6uisUqfDEeZpzd6sS.jpg)
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