A poem by Alfonso Velis, known Salvadoran poet who emigrated years ago to the frigid Canada. In these verses of maturity and anxiety about the inexorable course of life, the Salvadoran poet breathes nostalgia for the land and yearn for children with all the memories that crowd like a whirlwind on the way to work. How to weigh the memories of the homeland, childhood, life at the head of Alfonso Velis, tenderness touches us and hits us.
A few steps from my poodle
A few steps from my poodle
One day I go out in the fog
Fragrant aromas
winter snows City calcined
trees lying around
For the roar of wind Only the glow
robe of green pines,
lapel coat with scarf
boots gloves tin tapir
I go into the street to 35 below zero
Unlike my cool autumns
De remembered
In Lents cicadas sing their songs
our dead where they lost their hard fought
pus from a wound and dried wild mountains
From
curdles the blood to me I was frozen
feet hurt
joints of the hands
One day you forget any poetry
here far from home I love
Vicinity of different people
waiting for the bus of the seven
are going to go back to become
invaded the nostalgia alive
That
going crazy barking alone
mystery of missing early morning soles
your poverty
your fear hell full of cold
of forests uprooted
Far die in your arms
blue sea Viewing
With a tired soul
difficult to live with an absent homeland
Aging
other pain dragging her fair young children
sipped the rum used
Years passed in a hurry I was giddy
breaks the tenderness of your eyes to the human
friendship of a dog
the poet meditates long
sticking up under the snow March
simply one speaks only a
way to die slowly
Stone
I am to be sliding
In light of the abyss. 27/03/2009
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