Friday, September 20, 2013


Life is a rope
which you pull and relax,
it is often a rough rope,
you relax because
it is bruising your skin.
Which with time
it bruises anyway,
from within.

But what is happiness?
Please don't tell me,
do not brandish this sword,
do not waste any further word.

1 comment:

A Cuban In London said...

A very subtle division in this poem. Not just the obvious one, created by the two stanzas, but also an external and internal one. Fascinating poem. Many thanks.

Greetings from London.