miércoles, 17 de junio de 2009

Looking at the photo of the father

While still lying on the horizon,
My father, and no one knew
I've gotten headaches for your feet,
I am filled with bread and egg,
potato and salad with tomato,
and embetunado up ears,
sausage on your chest, well-adjusted in your arms,
my head has taken the shape of your head,
watching this iconic photograph
taken a few steps from the nursery of lobster,
I realize how I disappeared,
I was looking in the mirror
to certify that I am not dreaming,
are you, my father, I look at your nose, is equal to my nose,
My ears are your ears,
how to wear the coat, dark glasses,
is equal to the style of my coat and my glasses;
It seems for over thirty years
're inside this bag with my clothes,
with all your huesitos, one by one, intact,
You, with wrinkles, I, here, with my losses.