Blue Nostalgia

Blue nostalgia for being recognized
Discovering the world among the others
Growing old with them
Sensing the continuity of history
Delighting in lovers who left
With another
Being a very old woman
The same one who fell in love
With her own dreams
The one who sketched tattoos in
Imaginary sands
And watered the graves of her grandparents

Nostalgia for recognizing a fragrance that
Blooms among the herbs of the same house
Where the rain marched calmly past
While Serrat accompanied the first
Enchantments of love

I have lived here so far away
Abandoning the girl I was
Only nostalgia for a blue day
For a house where I lay my head
For a country that offered me words

Beyond the hours

And the wind beyond, within the solitude of fire
Became a perpetual guest
A clear presence among the absent ones

Beyond the hours
The wind and its voice waving along the shores
Showing us the grace of remoteness
In the sunny solitudes of Chile
Where I too became
A guest and accomplice
A silence without preamble
A hoarse and obscure voice
A voice