Bajo el velo de la pluma

Perennial pleasure invaded my soul, as I approached my ear to the curve, perceiving the cannon shots I placidly stole of your mighty heart in a creature so pure. Swimming happily in the water of life, inhabiting the chamber of a vast womb, while making bubbles that fly like a kite, reaching my heaven as the finest spume. How pleased you live in that world of darkness, where my singing voice penetrates timidly, but the notes of my xylophone are countless to enlarge your innocent peace so brilliantly. I try to reach you all days of my agony, thus revealing the mystery of your being, patient should I be to control my anxiety, to embrace you, to name you my king.

– ‘Where’s daddy?’ Demands my infant, – ‘getting closer’ – reply I, – ‘to grab the constellations of your hands,     to be drowned in the oceans of your eyes,     to surround you in the arch of my arms.     Enclose me hard, son of mine,     do not let your father alone in a desert so dry.     You are my inspiration, a feeling so high.     You are, Emmanuel, to whom I incline my heart.’ – ‘What is it that you are saying, darling dad?’ – ‘You may not now understand the music    of these words whose meaning is so tight,    but I do venerate you, beloved child,    for you are my perpetuation in everlasting time.'