Words

This is not the language of my soul,
but it is the language that is understood
so the sacrifice must be made.
Although the other speaks honestly,
elegant, musical and from origin
it is this language that must speak for now
as the words flow in this foreign tongue.

Like Jasmines
attached to the green leaves of the Jasmine bush
these verses are the vines,
that sustain the blossoming words.
My secrets, my fears, my disguises
and my bare nakedness in honesty,
all I fear are revealed in words.

Within the sound of waves crashing against sand
there is a hidden note,
which resonates through me.
It fills a space
that can no longer be called empty.
And in that very ocean
lies the connection to the unknown
the story still untold
destiny itself.

As if by chance a journey begins.
By chance the images of one day
are imprinted.
The paintings, fine food, wine
and the seduction of a guitar
linger in my memory.
As the movement of a dancers skirt
lingers in the air after a perfect turn.
A whirlwind of motion
that melts the dancer with the elements.
A whirlwind of emotions linger in me.

Deep breaths, patience and learning
replace the walls of my inner castle
and begin to strip it block by block,
intricate tile by intricate tile.
These are the images and thoughts
that have taken over me recently
begining the reconstruction or the creation
the safety of a place that had never existed.

Only within the honest witnessing of the self
merging with the elements, with reality
can a soul soar through the infinite
into true compassion love.
Only within the openness of the oceans,
the unknown, the vastness of space
and all that is not answered,
only in that place
may there be a road leading towards something someone
with an understanding of this language.

The idiom, which is my very nature
beneath the obvious images you see
the truth to be discovered
in me.

 
Flores
Desde la India hasta Iberia
todas usan flores.
Que coquetas son las niñas
cuando bailan y enamoran
luciendo en el cabello bellas flores de colores.
Y que preciosas las abuelas
cuando lucen rosas y claveles
en su pelo recogido
por una hermosa peineta.
 
Flowers
From India to Iberia
all of them wear flowers.
How coquette are the girls
wearing colorful flowers in their hair
while they dance and make hearts fall in love with them.
And how gorgeous are the grandmothers
with their hair pulled up
held by a beautiful comb
wearing carnations and a rose.
 
Clavel rojo

Un clavel rojo
nació en una plaza.
En el mismo centro de Madrid
un clavel rojo y silvestre
surgió entre las entrañas de la tierra
y una fuente.

Tu nombre lleva entre sus pétalos.
Pétalos ondulados como el pelo de un gitano.
Tu aliento lleva entre su fragancia
y tú sangre roja en su ardiente tono.

Desde lejos voló la semilla
cargada entre los brazos
de una calida y desconocida brisa.
Y ahí cerca de donde nací
decidió emprender su raíz.

Por donde en coche
desde niña mi madre me paseaba
encontró su tierra, oxigeno, luz y su alma.

Clavel silvestre de montes Andaluces
entre la piedra de una fuente y la tierra
gritas tu pasión.
Notas de guitarra se escuchan por tu alrededor.

Solo verte es suficiente.
Admirarte con los ojos del alma
y guardar tus notas
para la música que nace en mi ser.

Clavel de tierras lejanas, extranjero
de esta tierra mía haz hecho tu casa.
Como brotan las emociones al encontrarte
y con todo lo que nace
con solo saber que existes basta.

Mirarte al pasar por tu alrededor
pasadas y pasadas
con solo ese baile basta.
Por ahora ardiente clavel silvestre
al lado de esa fuente permaneces.

No vayas a creer clavel
que por una pasión encender
tenga necesidad de introducir a mi casa
tu creación, tu roja y apasionada disrupción.

 
En el Mediterráneo
Las cristianas, gitanas, moras, judías, que guapas
por la Giralda, por ahí van andando.
Sevilla, Andalucía
Mar Mediterráneo
Marruecos, El Sahara, Turquía
unidos por Mar Mediterráneo.
Las mujeres del alma
los amantes que las aman
sueños de luna blanca, luz, esplendorosa y dorada.
Patios, cante, baile, compás, guitarra
Andaluces en las noches soñando en sus camas.
Tardes y días con Lorca gozando
arte, arte y mas arte
por medio de las artes
la humanidad se va encontrando.
 
In the Mediterranean
The Christians, Gypsies, Moorish, Jewish girls
how beautiful they are.
Along the Giralda there they stroll
Sevilla, Andalucia
Mediterranean Sea
Morocco, The Sahara, Turkey
united by the Mediterranean Sea.
The women of our souls
the lovers that love them all
white moon dreams, light, golden splendor.
Courtyards, song, dance, rhythm, guitar
the Andalusian in their beds dreaming at night.
Evenings and days with Lorca’s words to enjoy
art, art and more art
through the arts
humanity begins to find itself.
 


Karina Del Carmen Velasco, Flamenco in Los Angeles, Karina Velasco
Cuatro Caminos Arts & Flamenco: Flamenco Dance, Acting, Music, Writing
© 2010 All Rights Reserved