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Photographer’s Note

Solitudes
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They are right,
that happiness with capital letter does not exist at least.

Ah! but if it existed with small letter,
would be similar to our brief pre - solitude.

After the joy, the solitude comes,
after the fullness, comes the solitude,
after the love, comes the solitude.

I already know that it is a poor deformation,
but the certain thing is that in that durable minute, one feels single in the world.

Without handles,
without pretexts, hugs, resentments,
the things that unite or separate,
and in that single way to be single,
not even one is taken pity of one same one.

The objective data are as they follow,
are ten centimeters of silence,
between your hands and my hands,
a border of words nonsaid between your lips and my lips
and something that that shines sad
between your eyes and my eyes.

Clear that the solitude does not come single,
if a compact length and,
a simple respect by third or quarters,
that mishap of being is watched after on the dull shoulder of our solitudes,
will be seen impossible good people.

After the joy,
after the fullness,
the love the solitude comes.

In agreement, ¿but what will come after the solitude?

Sometimes I do not feel so single,
if I imagine, rather if I know that beyond my solitude and of yours,
you again are,
although it is asking solo,
¿that will come after the solitude?

Poem Of Mario Benedetti

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Additional Photos by John Ospina (ElAprendiz) Gold Star Critiquer/Silver Workshop Editor/Gold Note Writer [C: 1206 W: 21 N: 2308] (7370)
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