
Uno va a la guerra sin manual.
De pequeños
corríamos simulando la emboscada perfecta.
Nadie nos dijo
sobre las primeras batallas
cuando el dolor quiebra mariposas en el lodo
con la certeza de la muerte
sin saber sobre cadáveres.
El manual,
está en las mariposas.

¡Muchas gracias por tu visita!



One goes to war without a manual.
As children,
we ran, simulating the perfect ambush.
No one told us
about the first battles,
when pain shatters butterflies in the mud,
with the certainty of death,
without knowing about corpses.
The manual
is in the butterflies.

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STOPCheck out our last posts:
You write beautiful and nice poems.
This was good to read.
----
via Apps from
Hi! I'm honored that you appreciate it! Hugs!
You're welcome. Bless.
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!BBH

Hello! Sending you grateful hugs!
Me lo robo!
jejeje... Pues ya es tuyo jejeje
!ALIVE
Tu poema es breve, pero contundente. Hablas de las pequeñas batallas perdidas y el dolor que producen, de una manera muy lírica. ❤️
Un poema breve que captura certezas tan grandes como que cada pedazo de la vida trae una emboscada y que la vida no tiene manual. Saludos, @roswelborges
Breves palabras pero suficientes 👏
Un abrazo @roswelborges
!BBH
!LOLZ
!PIZZA
!HUG
!BEER