Árboles secos / Dry Trees

No sé por qué me gustan los árboles secos

será porque murmuran historias huecas

son como cáscaras vacías

por cuyas grietas

se escapa la vida.

Tal vez hubo fuego

y sus hojas gimieron

hasta llorar cenizas.

Tal vez hubo viento

y tras sus caricias

soñó con el mar.

Tal vez hubo agua

y temió ser barco

navegando oleajes

de penas saladas.

Tal vez hubo tierra

ya no está seguro

se ha quedado ciego

y ahora cuando cruje

solo yo lo escucho.

I don’t know why I like dry trees

Maybe because they whisper hollow stories

they are like empty shells

through whose cracks

life escapes.

Maybe there was fire

and their leaves moaned

until they cried ashes.

Maybe there was wind

and after its caresses

they dreamed of the sea.

Maybe there was water

and they feared to become ships

sailing waves

of salty sorrows.

Maybe there was land

not sure anymore

they have become blind

and now when they creaks

only I can hear them.