Atrévete a Soñar De Jorge Alberto Pérez Hernández

Adormecerse en la noche menos larga, Nos da tiempo a reposar la pupila y a convertir el espíritu protervo en el más fiel y blanco rostro envuelto en velo. Cuando la noche es más larga, Fantasmas surtidos de niebla prueban el audaz momento de tu cuerpo y van a afiliarse a tu inmóvil masa. Trémulos danzan a tan alto lugar tocan acordes de arpas encendidas colocan aullidos en los campos santos arrojan centellas a través de nubes cenicientas… Oh, clara luna, tu que las tinieblas espantas, desvía y rompe la noche más larga que mis dulces sueños vuelvan veloces a mi alma dormida a mis sueños menos largos

Dare to dream

By Jorge Alberto Pérez Hernández

Fall asleep in the less long night, It gives us time to rest the pupil and convert the wicked spirit in the most faithful and white veil-wrapped face When the night is longest Assorted Mist Ghosts taste the bold moment of your body and will join your immobile mass. Trembling they dance to such a high place play chords of flaming harps hang howls in the holy fields They throw sparks through ashen clouds... Oh, clear moon, you who scare the darkness, divert and break the longest night May my sweet dreams come back fast to my sleeping soul to my less long dreams

Emmanuel Antonio Sanfiel Jiménez

Born in September 6, 2003 in Gibara (a village in Holguín province). He writes poetry since he was a child and has participated in several contests in his native village, another of his passions is playing the guitar and singing. He's a Preparatory Year Student in the English Language Major(with French as Second Language) at the University of Holguín. He took part in WEFLA 2023 developing topics such as multilingualism and phonetics.

Requiem for life

By Luis Catalá

By Emmanuel Sanfiel Jiménez

It was cold a rough breeze

Was raising a wave of loneliness and gluttony

Behind walls a dry classical violin was heard

Playing music to the rhythm of the leak

The flies were taking turns on my shoulders

And windows I saw only the one,

Transmitting the deep echo

From the heels of the waitress

I took my hung up coat,

I saw a sad and lonely lady crying over the passing of her husband

I gave my coat to her

Retracing the yard

There were gray fir trees

Together making a ball of shadows

In them, crows were making their nest

And in its shadow, beautiful flowers

Butterflies, only one

Dancing centuries ago in front of a tombstone

Crazy

Mocking

Coarse

The butterfly danced the requiem of the dead

On the planking of the tomb.