Loco | Crazy
Loco, como el que pasa la vida en busca de brillo
Como quien entrena décadas por segundos de grandeza.
Loco, en su puro verbo
Como la belleza en el dolor de un alma renacida
Como quien con heridas vivas al alba camina por el prado acompañado de la paz y la ira.
Loco, como decir "igual a nadie"
Como una lucha brutal aunque apacible
De un mundo bello y despiadado
En una vida cruel pero reconfortante.
Serán legiones los que verán los iconos brillar como estrellas a la distancia
Hasta los discordantes verán el poder emanar desde el Ser.
Un Ser que no se cansa
Un Ser con convicción desmedida
La voluntad de acero
Obsesiónes crónicas compulsivas
Mil sueños
Millones de metas
Y un destino.
Brillar!
Brillar auténtico y por obra propia.
Brillar ahora,
Porque el tiempo no dió otra vida
Porque sería aburrido no morir lentamente durante toda una vida tan solo haciendo y logrando
Porque es ilógico vivir solo respirando y comiendo
sin sentir, sin luchar, sin vencer.
Brillar con frenesí y vivir con pasión.
Una pasión que te haga sonar Absurdo y Perfecto,
Que te haga ser de esos dementes que mueven masas,
Que quiebran voces,
Que roban lágrimas,
Que otorgan alientos,
Que dan esperanzas...
Loco...
Loco por querer la eternidad
Loco por atesorar la pureza
Loco por consagrar la esencia
Loco por vencer al ego
Loco por no ser igual
Loco por buscar lo propio
Loco por ser auténtico
Loco por no encajar
Loco por no seguir las reglas
Loco por ganar perdiendo
Loco por perderme para encontrarme
Loco por no cansarme
Loco por no rendirme
Loco por sentir
Loco por decir te amo
Loco por hacer un gesto
Loco por ver el cielo
Y hasta loco por querer que lluevan lirios dónde falta amor en esta tierra...
Megalomano retozando con tigres en armonía.
Un Cesar recostado en el lomo de un Andaluz mostrandole el pecho cielo mientras las manos humedas cuelgan sin fuerzas rozando pastizales de trigo en el lento galope del pegazo ante la magnificencia del crepúsculo al pasar congraciado entre la multitud, otorgando los últimos alientos a la gratitud perpetua por poder siempre haberme llevado a plenitud.
Una muerte digna de un soldado...
no por su final si no por todo lo transitado.
No eres en lo que te convertiste
Eres todo lo que has pasado.
...y Soy libre.
Crazy, like the one who spends his life in search of brilliance.
Like one who trains decades for seconds of greatness.
Crazy, in its pure verb
Like the beauty in the pain of a soul reborn
As one who with living wounds at dawn walks through the meadow accompanied by peace and anger.
Crazy, like saying "equal to no one".
Like a brutal yet gentle struggle
Of a beautiful and merciless world
In a cruel yet comforting life.
Legions will see the icons shine like stars in the distance.
Even the discordant will see the power emanating from the Self.
A Self that does not tire
A Being with unbridled conviction
The will of steel
Chronic compulsive obsessions
A thousand dreams
Millions of goals
And one destiny.
To shine!
To shine true and of one's own making.
To shine now,
Because time did not give another life
Because it would be boring not to die slowly for a lifetime just doing and achieving.
Because it is illogical to live only breathing and eating
without feeling, without fighting, without conquering.
To shine with frenzy and live with passion.
A passion that makes you sound Absurd and Perfect,
That makes you be one of those madmen who move the masses,
Who break voices,
That steal tears,
That give breath,
That give hope...
Crazy...
Crazy for wanting eternity
Mad to treasure purity
Mad to consecrate the essence
Crazy for overcoming the ego
Crazy for not being equal
Crazy for seeking one's own
Crazy for being authentic
Crazy for not fitting in
Crazy for not following the rules
Crazy for winning by losing
Crazy for losing myself to find myself
Crazy for not getting tired
Crazy for not giving up
Crazy to feel
Crazy to say I love you
Crazy to make a gesture
Crazy to see the sky
And even crazy for wanting it to rain lilies where love is lacking on this earth...
Megalomaniac frolicking with tigers in harmony.
A Caesar leaning on the back of an Andalusian showing him the sky chest while wet hands hang limply brushing wheat pastures in the slow gallop of the Pegasus before the magnificence of the twilight as it passes ingratiatingly through the crowd, giving the last breaths to the perpetual gratitude for always being able to have taken me to fullness.
A death worthy of a soldier...
not for his end but for all that he has gone through.
You are not what you became
You are all that you have gone through.
... And I am free.
Contenido | Content: De mi autoria | by me
Imagenes | imagens: todas las imagenes son extraidas de freepick.com y editadas en Adobe Phosotoshop
Traduccion |Translate: DeepL.com
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