No Hay Palabras

They are not the reality in themselves
they are beautiful words that will only achieve
being an inaccurate drawing of the inner landscape
they are just the echoes of emotion.

There are feelings that have no voice
because they do not fit into an explanation,
they are the silent verse that will never find
the precise word to cry in.

There are no words to give
what hands offer when love is to be given
no word, no; no sentence
embellishes the poem of that sensation.

Poor words that will not be
more than copies of a painting, not the original;
only in that silence that is guessed in the voice
will the words of emotion sound. There are no words to express
the weight of the emptiness of my loneliness;
no word, no; there is no sentence
that interprets the work of a sensation.

There are no words to give
what hands offer when love is to be given
no word, no; no sentence
embellishes the poem of your sensation.

There are no words to confess
the weight of the emptiness of my loneliness,
that word becomes the nakedness of being
and delivers the discourse I keep in my skin,
but they are not the reality in themselves, just beautiful words