Héctor Palacios Flores
The Power of Words
Poems By
Héctor Palacios Flores
La fuerza de las palabras
Hector Palacios F.


Sigo el silencio: la luz del sol que descansa en las paredes.
Sigo los minutos, marco el ritmo de su paso: lento, agonico.
Miro los objetos: dos cuadros pequenos, dos figuras de porcelana y
dos soldaditos de plomo.  Cada objeto tiene su propia historia.

Esta casa, refugio del tiempo, guarda tu historia.  Alla, las ventanas llenas  de polvo enmohecen el
recuerdo.  Aqui, a un lado. la pieza vacia, el closet abandonado, enriquecen tus angustias. Solo
oyes ruidos que te asaltan, pasos que te siguen.  

Nadie viene. Nadie te visita. ?Eres tu o es tu sombra? Dibujas las ansias de tus suenos.  Llenas
hojas de papel, aranas los recuerdos. ? Poesia? ?Llamas a eso poesia?
Seria mejor que arrullaras el cuerpo del olvido, tocaras los dedos frios de la noche. Y, asi, mudo y
sin sentido, te cobijaras con el manto del silencio.

Tocas a mi puerta, me llamas, y me dices:  no eres tu el eligido. No es a ti a quien he de clavar las
unas de la arrogancia. !Basta ya!  !Dejame en paz! Es inutil que te aferres a mi.

?Y estos anos?   ?Estas cadenas que arrastran mis pies?
Ir y venir por el mundo.  Rodar en el tiempo.  Caminar y caminar...


Pisar el suelo, pisar los anos.  Andar entre sombras y el desaliento en la garganta.
?No es la fama, acaso, la gloria de los muertos?

Miro el sol que agoniza; derrama su fuego en las palabras; las ilumina, las quema. Despues, las
cenizas cubren mis ojos.

Abril 30/1987
2008 © Hector Palacios F.

The Power Of Words
2008 © Hector Palacios F.




I follow the silence: the light of the sun that rests on the wall.
I follow the minutes; I mark the rhythm of their passage: slow, agonizing.
I see the objects: two small paintings, two figures of porcelain and two small soldiers of lead.  Each
object has its history.

This house, a refuge of time, guards your history. There, the dusty windows enhance the memory.
Here on one side, the empty room, the abandoned closet; they increase your anguish. You hear
noises that assault you, footsteps that follow you.

No one comes here, no one visits you. Is it you or is it your shadow?
You draw the anxiety of your dreams, you fill sheets of paper, you scratch memories.
Poetry?  You call this poetry?
It would be better that you rock the baby of memory; touch the cold fingers of the night, and in this
way, somber and without feeling, you cover yourself with a wrap of silence.

You knock on my door, you call me,  and you say to me: you are not the chosen one. It is not for you
that I claw my nails of arrogance.   Enough now!  Leave me in peace!  It is useless to hold me.

And these years?  And these chains that drag on my feet?
Going back and fourth throughout the world;  roll over time, walk and walk.

Walk among shadows without hope. Stepping on the ground, stepping on the years.  
Is it not by chance, that fame is the glory of the dead?

I watch the sun as it agonizes and spills its fire on the words; it lights them, it burns them;  
and after, the ashes cover my eyes.

Héctor Palacios Flores
Héctor Palacios Flores

Poems
By Héctor Palacio Flores
New Book of Poetry
by
Héctor Palacio Flores

Original Poems in Spanish
with English Translations
A Wonderful book for poets, lovers of
language and for those studying
Spanish or English.  
This book makes language studies fun
Barnes and Noble
Cover
Click to see cover
Click image for
sample pages
Interior and Cover Art
Emmanuelle Guyon
Interior Art
Mellizza Castillanos Rios
Other Poems by Héctor
Palacios Flores
In this book of
poems,  Hector
Palacios Flores
offers English and
Spanish language
translation to aid the
language student.

Former Professor of
literature Hector
Palacios Flores is a
poet now living in
Oaxaca City, Mexico