I sing, I sing, for it hurts to cry
And the "why?" rings in my mind;
with my hands I recreate beauty
and that is why I sing and sing so much...

...so much like a sorrowful night
that amid nature's aroma
the moaning of music is purity
that sprouts out of the words of my song.

I am seduced by the sensation, so beautiful
of reliving the brief journey
that is a star's cry.

It is my reminiscent Love letter;
I know that my song reaches her
Because I lay my soul in her memory.

Julie Sopetran
(Spanish Poet)

The small floating island travels through the canal.
- Open the door, mother! So that we can surprise
that wandering soul who has arrived at our offerings;
the mirrors of the waterways have blinded her...

but she can feel her way, alone, to our house.
Prepare the food. That death may see
that this love of life we offer as a gift
so that she may better understand what the mystery
     has bequeathed.

- Yes, dear daughter. Our house, clean, welcomes our
     visitor.
Lights. Incense. Tamales. Chairs.
The bed is made with flowers which we bought.

The little floating house is beauty that traverses
by the unparalleled road of all the river banks
we get on and then... Will we return?

Julie Sopetran
(Spanish Poet)

Woman with a somber gaze,
Tell me, what do you see in the candles?
are they ghosts in the night
or are they flowers of the Earth?

   What do you treasure on your lap
   illuminated and transparent,
   even in the air
   your silhouette appears?

        Twice as much the pain,
        twice as much the loss,
        the flowers have become rivers
        and the fragrance cries out.

              Pondering at night,
              vigil of the imagination,
              bundle of lights and echoes,
              stay up late during the wake...

        Woman with a tender gaze
        the flames of candles reach out;
        are they mocking this moment
        or are they restfully flickering out.

     In your illuminated face
     life rejuvenates,
     to those who love death
     this is a golden night in their sight.

For those who love life
it is a night of confusion,
the wax kisses the flowers
and the flame caresses the emotions.

Julie Sopetran
(Spanish Poet)