Poema a mi abuela | Poem to my grandmother

in Literatos11 months ago (edited)

ESP 🇪🇸 Hola, Comunidad. Hoy quiero compartirles un poema que le hice a mi abu. Ella padecía de la triste enfermedad de la demencia. Fueron años muy complicados para la familia, aunque a pesar de todo, siempre tratábamos de disfrutarla.
Amaba mucho contemplarla y me bombardeaban interrogantes, pero estaba segura de algo: que entre nosotros existe una conexión.

Hola, ¿ estás ahí?

Siempre me hago la misma pregunta cada vez que te observo.

Tus ojos no me miran como antes, aunque conservas esa mirada tierna de la primera vez.

Tus manos no me acarician como antes, pero me agarran fuerte, se sientes cálidas.

Tus palabras no se entienden, pero entre balbuceos, está la frase: Te quiero.

Tus hechos, ya pasaron la línea de lo normal, pero aún conservas la risa de siempre.
...

Hola, sí, estoy aquí.

Tomándome fuerte la mano


EN 🇬🇧 Hello, Community. Today I want to share with you a poem I made for my grandmother. She suffered from the sad disease of dementia. Those were very difficult years for the family, but despite everything, we always tried to enjoy her.
I loved to contemplate her and I was bombarded with questions, but I was sure of one thing: that there is a connection between us.

Hello, are you there?

I always ask myself the same question every time I look at you.

Your eyes don't look at me like before, but you still have that tender look from the first time?

Your hands don't caress me like before, but they hold me tight, they feel warm.

Your words are not understood, but between stammers, there is the phrase: I love you.

Your deeds are past the line of normal, but you still have your usual laugh.
...

Hello, I'm here.

Holding my hand tightly

Créditos | Credits

  • La imagen fue tomada por mí y editada a través de mi teléfono | The image was taken by me and edited through my phone.
  • Traducción: Deepl | English translation: Deepl
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Las influencias del tiempo logran dolorosas transfomaciones aun cuando la persona quisiera manifestarse de la mims manera de antes. Este poema transpira ternura.

Gracias por su comentario 🥺. El tiempo no se detiene.

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