The ephemeral beauty
The beautiful and the sinister
“When a lightning flashes we are born,
And its brilliance still lasts, when we die:
So short is living!
The glory and the love after which we run,
Shadows of a dream are what we pursue:
Waking up is dying!”
Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer 1861
The ephemeral beauty of youth, A fleeting moment in time, A fragile flower that blooms, And fades away with the wind.
The promise of life ahead, A world of endless possibilities, A future full of hope and dreams, A journey yet to be explored.
But death is always lurking, A shadow that follows us, A reminder of our mortality, A truth we cannot ignore.
The beauty of youth is a gift, A treasure to be cherished, A moment to be savored, A memory to be held.
But youth is not forever, And soon we must face the truth, That life is but a fleeting moment, And death is always near.
The fragility of youth is a reminder, That life is precious and fleeting, That every moment is a gift, That we must cherish and embrace.
For death is not the end, But a new beginning, A journey into the unknown, A mystery waiting to be explored.
So let us embrace the beauty of youth, And the fragility of life, Let us cherish every moment, And live our lives to the fullest.
For in the end, it is not the years we live, But the moments we cherish, That define our lives, And make them worth living.
Death is a mystery that surrounds us, a dark veil that covers our eyes, a shadow that follows us wherever we go, a certainty that lurks around every corner.
Beauty, on the other hand, is ephemeral, a flash that shines for an instant, a ray of light that fades into darkness, a flower that withers over time.
Life is a path we travel, a path full of ups and downs and surprises, an adventure that takes us to unexpected places, a story we write with every step we take.
Death and beauty are two sides of the same coin, two forces that attract and repel each other, two truths that complement and contradict each other, two mysteries that challenge and inspire us.
In youth, death seems far away, a horizon that disappears in the distance, a shadow that does not reach us, an idea that does not concern us.
But life is fragile and ephemeral, a breath of air that fades in the wind, a sigh that is lost in silence, a heartbeat that fades into the night.
Beauty is a gift that life gives us, a treasure that we must care for and protect, a miracle that surprises and excites us, a reflection of the light that shines within us.
Death is a reminder of our mortality, a call to live each moment intensely, an invitation to love and be loved, an opportunity to leave a mark on the world.
Beauty and death are two sides of the same coin, two truths that challenge and inspire us, two mysteries that invite us to reflect, two gifts that life offers us.
The beautiful and the sinister, Two sides of the same coin, Life and death, intertwined, Youth and old age, a single line.
The world is a stage, And we are merely players, Our lives but a fleeting moment, In the grand scheme of things.
The beauty of youth, A time of innocence and wonder, A time of endless possibilities, A time of hope and dreams.
But youth is fleeting, And soon we find ourselves, In the midst of life, With all its joys and sorrows.
The beauty of life, A time of love and laughter, A time of growth and change, A time of learning and discovery.
But life is fragile, And soon we find ourselves, In the midst of death, With all its pain and sorrow.
The beauty of death, A time of peace and rest, A time of release and freedom, A time of reunion and renewal.
But death is sinister, And soon we find ourselves, In the midst of old age, With all its frailty and decay.
The beauty of old age, A time of wisdom and reflection, A time of acceptance and grace, A time of love and legacy.
But old age is fleeting, And soon we find ourselves, In the midst of death, With all its mystery and wonder.
The beautiful and the sinister, Life and death, youth and old age, All part of the same journey, All part of the same story.
May we embrace the beauty, And face the sinister, May we cherish the life, And accept the death, May we celebrate the youth, And honor the old age, For they are all part of us, And we are all part of them.
“Beloved, tonight you have crucified yourself
on the two curved woods of my kiss,
and your sorrow has told me that Jesus has cried,
and that there is a Good Friday sweeter than that kiss.
On this strange night when you have looked at me so much,
Death has been happy and has sung in her bones.
On this September night it was held
my second fall and the most human kiss.
Beloved, we will both die together, very together;
Our sublime bitterness will gradually dry up;
and they will have touched our deceased lips in shadow.
And there will no longer be reproaches in your blessed eyes;
nor will I offend you again. And in a grave
We will both fall asleep, like two little brothers.”
César Vallejo, 1918
“My sweet Star
You were my youthful love, my friend, my light. You filled my days with joy and delight. You had a smile that could light up any room. Your name did you justice, Estrella. You had a pure and true heart.
You loved to sing, dance, play. You had a dream for every day. You wanted to travel, learn, grow. You had a lot to give, to show, to illuminate with your inner brilliance.
But fate was cruel and took you away from my life. You left this world on a cold winter day. You were too young, too sweet, too good. You didn’t deserve this fate, it should have been me.
I have lived a long and happy life. I have seen the wonders of this world. I have found your love, your peace, your joy in every place and every corner I have visited in this world. I have had more time, more opportunities, more and more that I have not desired.
But you’re gone and I’m here. I remember you. I miss you so much, I shed a thousand tears. I feel your absence, your emptiness, your pain. I wish I could see you, hug you again.
But I know you’re not really gone. You are still with me, in my heart, in my soul. You are still watching me, guiding me, loving me. You are still my Star, my traveling companion and my goal.
You inspire me to live, to love, to have hope. You teach me to be strong, to face the situation. You remind me to be grateful, appreciate and smile. You help me to be better, to heal and to grow.
You are my Star, my friend, my light. You are my angel, my love. You are my memory, my treasure, my gift.
You are my universe and I miss you.”
José A. Galan 1967
“I do not know what I have dreamed
In the last night;
Sad, very sad it must have been the dream,
Well, I woke up, the anguish lasted me.
Note, when joining,
wet the pillow,
And for the first time I felt, when I noticed it,
Of a bitter pleasure to fill the soul.
sad thing is the dream
What a cry it tears from us;
But I have in my sadness a joy…
I know I still have tears!”
They closed their eyes
That I still had open;
They covered his face
With a white canvas:
and some sobbing,
Others in silence
from the sad bedroom
They all got out.
The light, that in a glass,
Burned on the ground
to the wall he threw
The shadow of the bed;
And in that shadow
see each other at intervals,
Draw yourself rigid
The shape of the body.
the day woke up,
And at its first dawn
With its thousand noises
The town woke up.
Before that contrast
Of life and mysteries,
Of light and darkness,
Think for a moment:
“_My God, how lonely
the dead remain!!_”
of the house on shoulders
They took her to the temple,
and in a chapel
They left the coffin.
there they surrounded
His pale remains
of yellow candles
And black cloth.
When giving of the souls
the last touch,
I just finished an old
His last prayers;
I cross the wide ship,
The doors groaned,
and the holy precinct
I stayed deserted;
From a clock you could hear
Compassed the pendulum,
and some candles
The sizzle.
So scared and sad,
So dark and stiff,
Everything was…
Let me think for a moment:
“_My God, how lonely
the dead remain!!_”
from the high bell
iron tongue,
He gave her, turning,
Your pitiful goodbye.
The mourning in the clothes,
Friends and relatives
They crossed in line
Forming the cortege.
of the last asylum,
dark and narrow,
I opened the pickaxe
The niche at one end.
There they put her to bed,
They walled him up later,
and with a greeting
The duel was dismissed.
The pickaxe on the shoulder,
the gravedigger
Singing under his breath
He was lost in the distance.
The night was coming
Silence reigned;
Lost in the shadows
Meditate a moment:
“_My God, how lonely
are the dead left? _”
in the long nights
of the frozen winter,
when the woods
creaking makes the wind
And hit the glasses
heavy downpour,
of the poor girl
Alone I remember.
There the rain falls
With an eternal sound;
there he fights her
The blow of the cerzo.
of the wet wall
lying in the hole,
maybe cold
His bones are frozen!…
Does dust return to dust?
¿Does the soul fly to the heaven?
¿Everything is vile matter,
Rot and ooze?
I do not know; but there is something
What to explain I can not
That at the same time infuses us
disgust and mourning,
leaving so sad,
Only the dead!
Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer 1861
To my friend Joan Turú Vallés
“He had a passion for space
for the stars, the planets, the comets
through black holes, galaxies, multiverses
by UFOs, aliens, abductees.
She had an obsession for the truth
for the evidence, the clues, the evidence
by the reports, the testimonies, the documents
for the secrets, the conspiracies, the revelations.
He had a desire for contact
for the meeting, the dialogue, the exchange
for knowledge, understanding, friendship
for support, help, salvation.
He had a disappointment about the world
for war, violence, injustice
because of poverty, hunger, disease
because of ignorance, selfishness, cruelty.
He had a desperation for the future
for change, progress, evolution
for destiny, purpose, meaning
for hope, faith, reason.
He had a decision about death
for the end, the escape, the liberation
for the jump, the flight, the departure
for the dream, the adventure, the mission.
He had a goodbye letter
for forgiveness, gratitude, love
for the explanation, the confession, the farewell
for the promise, the desire, the reunion.“Death is the end of everything
the last breath, the last heartbeat
the last goodbye, the last hug
the last memory, the last dream.
Death is the beginning of nothing
the emptiness, the silence, the darkness
absence, loneliness, sadness
nostalgia, pain, anguish.
Death is everyone’s destiny
the inevitable, the inexorable, the inescapable
the mystery, the enigma, the secret
the fear, the horror, the terror.
Death is the challenge of some
the brave, the heroic, the altruistic
the martyr, the saint, the prophet
the rebel, the revolutionary, the visionary.
Death is the consolation of others
the tired, the sick, the suffering
the oppressed, the marginalized, the excluded
the desperate, the anguished, the suicidal.
Death is the art of few
the poet, the painter, the musician
the sculptor, the photographer, the filmmaker
the writer, the playwright, the novelist.
Death is the mystery of life
the origin, the meaning, the purpose
the destination, the path, the journey
the learning, the growth, the legacy.”
José A. Galán 1972
Life is the most precious gift
the miracle, the wonder, the magic
the origin, the source, the essence
the value, the meaning, the purpose.
Life is the greatest opportunity
the challenge, the adventure, the experience
learning, growth, development
overcoming, improving, excellence.
Life is the most beautiful expression
art, music, poetry
the color, the shape, the sound
beauty, harmony, joy.
Life is the deepest relationship
love, friendship, family
the meeting, the dialogue, the exchange
understanding, respect, empathy.
Life is the noblest action
service, help, solidarity
commitment, responsibility, justice
peace, freedom, dignity.
Life is the wisest attitude
gratitude, humility, generosity
optimism, hope, faith
the excitement, the enthusiasm, the happiness.
Life is the most beautiful song
the one that is born from the heart, from the soul, from the spirit
the one who rises to heaven, to infinity, to eternal
who joins the song of life.
José A. Galán
