My Magic Window

There is a window in my room open every night,
and I can do a trick to make it face wherever I want,
that way I can freely play with the light,
and look at everything I normally cant


Through it, I can see the moon, a star, and I say
that if I strain my eyes I can see your home,
I try to turn it around, so I can look away,
but it's only through familiar streets I roam


If I open the window it takes me to that gate,
inside that vestibule where our lips first met, oh jest
that's played cruelly on my mind by fate
let me forget the feeling of your chest against my chest


There is a window in my room open every night,
and I can do a trick to make it face wherever I want,
that way I can freely play with the light,
and look at everything I normally cant... 

Manuel Eduardo Dato Torres

30/07/12

I Crave to be the Wind

I crave only to be the wind,
that seems to feed alone,
the sins she claimed to atone,
in her sea within.

I'd be playful and make her skirt my house,
to lift it at least once or twice a day,
carry any word she might ever say
and blow freely under her blouse

Where the waves that rise,
are filled with the most seductive shame,
and the beat that crowns the mane,
is a mixture of her anger and some lies

It's those lies I want to drift against
and brush my chest against their nails,
so that when everything else fails,
I can leave her hair unfenced.

But for my true intent, in the darkest of the night,
I'll blow cold like November's breeze
to take my only chance to seize
from her sea within, the light.

-Manuel Eduardo Dato Torres
21/11/2012

Como todos ellos

Como el solitario enterrador de Huayna Picchu, en el templo de la luna,

como el orfebre maestro de las grandes salas de Petra,

como el caminante que se pierde de camino a Roma,

o como el primer niño que miró hacia las estrellas e intento coger alguna

Como el capitán pirata que teme más a una mujer que al leviatán,

como Mehmed a las puertas de Estambul,

como el primer marino que no vio el mar, sino el azul,

o como la primera dama traicionada en cihuatán.

Como Alejandro, cuando miraba a Hefestión,

como el poeta que ve bailar al tiempo con el viento,

como la gitana que teme al pañuelo en su casamiento,

o como el verso mágico de Odín en su narración

Como todos ellos te veo

y te contemplo,

con la carita pintada entera de rojo

y fue entonces, sentados junto a Orfeo,

que me miraste a los ojos,

con tus labios húmedos de deseo...

y me dijiste:

"ven, ven, ven, ven"

y yo, ya estaba yendo.

Manuel Eduardo Dato Torres,
11/11/2012