Birds of clay

Pinturas de Manolo García

‘Poetry is what happens when nothing else can.’ 

                                                                                   Charles Bukowski 

"Birds of clay", by Manolo García

Just in case Time leaves me stranded on some desert island

Today I close the logbook of all my dead time

I keep making my birds of clay 

I keep making my own birds of clay

And I put them to flight

Just in case Time leaves me stranded on some desert island

 I refuse to fall prey to neglect and sadness

Not a single blank page again

I feel the wonder of some lonesome passerby

I get lost in my sea charts

As I sail through their pages

Now the wind starts blowing

Though I lost sight of the sea a while ago

I no longer face the uphill on the road to your doorstep

I don't put my old doggy to sleep by your candle

It's at the angles of clock hands where feelings find their nesting place

Today they are birds of clay that are willing to fly

I get lost in the valleys

I spend the night on highways

Now the wind starts blowing

Though I lost sight of the sea a while ago

When I find myself shipwrecked, out of oars and guitar strings

When the morning nightingale ceases to sing into my ear

Now the wind starts blowing

Though I lost sight of the sea a while ago

I get lost in the valleys

I spend the night on highways

Manolo Garcia - "Pájaros de Barro"

                                            (Traducción muchas veces editada 

                                                             y podemos seguir editando...)

A boca de jarro