Poema: He vuelto a escribir / Poem: I'm back to writing

Después de una muy larga ausencia,
he regresado al lugar de siempre,
pluma y papel llenos de inocencia
piden plasmar lo que hay en mi mente.

Hay tantas cosas que decir,
Tantas historias por contar
Tantos detalles que escribir
El tiempo puede no alcanzar.

Rápidamente ocupo mi lugar
Mi viejo sillón espera ansioso
Deseando pronto comenzar
A escribir versos hermosos.

Ya sea que hablen del amor,
un amor puro y verdadero
o de la tristeza y el dolor
al no tener ni un “Te quiero”.

Envuelto en muchos sentimientos
Lleno de inseguridad y certezas
De escribir ha llegado el momento
De sacar de mi mente las riquezas.

Y es así como este baile da inicio
En el que las ideas van danzando
Para una perfecta armonía darle
Escribiendo y, a la vez, pensando.

Hablando de tantas cosas
Y al mismo tiempo de nada
Ocultando verdades en prosas
O exponiéndolas disimuladas.

Así pasan las horas en este día
Escribiendo sobre tantos temas
Sea de amor, o de melancolía
De grandes alegrías o de penas.

Mas nadie sabrá cómo estoy realmente
Si no me conoce bien, no hay manera
Escribiendo mis ideas ocupo mi mente
Solo diré: “he vuelto a escribir poemas”.

English Version

After a very long absence,
I have returned to my usual place,
pen and paper full of innocence
ask to capture what's in my mind.

There are so many things to say,
So many stories to tell
So many details to write
Time may not be enough.

I quickly take my place
My old armchair waits anxiously
Wishing soon to begin
To write beautiful verses.

Whether they speak of love
pure and true love
Or of sadness and pain
of not even having an "I love you".

Wrapped in many feelings
Filled with insecurities and certainties
The time has come to write
To get the riches out of my mind.

And that's how this dance begins
In which the ideas are dancing
For a perfect harmony to give it
Writing and, at the same time, thinking.

Talking about so many things
And at the same time of nothing
Hiding truths in prose
Or exposing them in disguise.

That's how the hours go by on this day
Writing about so many subjects
Whether of love, or of melancholy
Of great joys or sorrows.

But no one will know how I really am
If he doesn't know me well, there's no way
Writing my ideas I occupy my mind
I'll only say: "I'm back to writing poems".

Usuario en Discord: victoraraguayan1#4715

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