Valiente||| Brave [ESP-ENG]

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Del candil parpadeante en Medio de la fría y oscura noche, se revela la sombra ineludible que agita mis pensamientos, indestructible, confusa, llana, sin amarras, pero unida al paso del caminante, no cesa, no se cansa, no descansa, está allí inerte, como quien vigila en silencio esperando un desatino.

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Cuál errante paso el apuro de la aurora empuja, sigue el caminante sigiloso despacio, entre la oscurana y el amanecer se baten las horas, vence la llegada del día y sigo allí en tu compañía, no, no me equivocaré, esta vez no.

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El valiente se ciñe en la aurora y levanta sus fuerzas, frente en el alto, morral al hombro y sentimientos amarrados al pie del caobo para no perderlos en el camino, difícil la cuesta, la senda limpia.

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No hay vereda con monte cuando se ha caminado, por aquí pasaste tristeza, seguro estoy el camino quedó húmedo con mis lágrimas, te seguía de cerca la incertidumbre algo confundida pero inequívocamente atenta.

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Ya basta camino no presentes a quien conozco, deje que se marcharán para alivianar la carga, no puedo correr con ellas, también la melancolía deje, solo me traje un par de lágrimas para recordarme humano, no como quien sufre, sino como quien vive.

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Vivir es de valientes y vivir con amor es de sabios.

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From the flickering candle in the middle of the cold and dark night, the inescapable shadow that shakes my thoughts is revealed, indestructible, confused, plain, without moorings, but united to the walker's step, it does not cease, does not tire, does not rest, it is there inert, like one who watches in silence waiting for a mistake.

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Which wandering step the rush of the dawn pushes, follows the stealthy walker slowly, between the dark and the dawn the hours battle, the arrival of the day wins and I'm still there in your company, no, I won't be wrong, not this time.

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The brave man girdles himself in the dawn and raises his strength, forehead on high, backpack on his shoulder and feelings tied to the foot of the mahogany tree so as not to lose them on the way, difficult the slope, the clean path.

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There is no path with mountain when you have walked, here you passed sadness, I'm sure the road was wet with my tears, I followed you closely the uncertainty somewhat confused but unequivocally attentive.

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Enough of this path, don't present those I know, let them go away to lighten the load, I can't run with them, I also left the melancholy, I only brought a couple of tears to remember me as a human, not as one who suffers, but as one who lives.

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To live is for the brave and to live with love is for the wise.

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Poema original de @rafa1272, fotos pixabay editadas en PicsArt y Canvas en su versión gratuita

Original poem by @rafa1272, photos for picabay edited in PicsArt and Canvas in its free versi

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Translator by DeepL.

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