Nosotros,

Los de la verdadera estirpe humana,

Aquellos de la mirada larga y el coraz—n abierto,

Quienes, aunque distanciados, nos buscamos,

Y nos encontramos, bajo la luna llena, en un claro del bosque,

Quienes bebemos, cotidianamente, de la Fuente de Juvencia,

De la memoria de la eternidad,

Quienes sentimos, alguna vez, nostalgia al mirar hacia el cielo estrellado,

Los de la autŽntica hermandad terrestre, aquella de la lengua de los p‡jaros,É.

ÁHemos vuelto!

ÁY recuperamos nuestra mirada l’mpida!, desprovista ya de gestos;

Oscuros Magos negros, ‡ngeles ca’dos, djinn o nefilim incalificables,

Surgidos  quiz‡s del averno, o de dimensiones innombrables e indescriptibles,

Enga–aron a muchos de nosotros: Ya no conoc’amos, solo Òcre’amosÓ,

Desconoc’amos ya quŽ era el Sol y otros orbes maravillosos, allende los cielos,

Ni de su c—smica correspondencia en nuestros microcosmos,É

ÁHemos vuelto y aqu’ estamos!,

ÁLa hora de reconocernos ha llegado!,

ÁLa hora de compartir entre nosotros ha llegado!

Aunque permanezcamos, aœn, silenciosos, murmurando tan solo sentimientos,

No nos logran separar con sus ilusas y solo tridimensionales ÒdistraccionesÓÉ

Pues el ÒfuegoÓ del sentimiento siempre nos congrega,

Adem‡s, ni siquiera requerimos proclamarlo, cantarlo a los vientos o anunciarlo, cant‡ndolo,

en la madrugada;

Silentes, efectivos, recuperamos el Reino Medio, la azul esfera de la tierra,

AquŽl espacio m‡s all‡ de los espacios conocidos y que nos cobija,

Y que cobija a todos los espacios y la vida en uno comœn y nuestro,

Aquel hogar, en un claro de los bosques, bajo la igualmente silenciosa luna, o en medio del silente desierto,

bajo el Sol ardiente, en donde arde aquŽl fuego

Que, nueva y felizmente, nos congrega.

 

We,

Those of the true human race,

Those with the long gaze and open heart,

Who, though estranged, we search for each other,

And meet, under a full moon, at a clearing in the forest;

Those of us who drink, daily, from the Fountain of Youth,

From the memory of eternity,

Those of us who ever feel nostalgia when looking up at the starry sky,

Those of the authentic terrestrial brotherhood, that of the language of the birds,

We are back!

And we recover our limpid gaze!, Already devoid of gestures;

Dark black magicians, fallen angels, unspeakable djinn or nephilim,

Arisen perhaps from an underworld, or of unspeakable and indescribable dimensions,

They deceived many of us: We no longer knew, we just ÒbelievedÓ,

We did not already know what the Sun and other wonderful orbs were, beyond the skies,

Nor of its cosmic correspondence in our microcosm, ...

We have returned and here we are!

The time to recognize us has arrived!

The time to share among us has arrived!

Although we remain, still, silent, murmuring only feelings,

They cannot separate us with their and only three-dimensional delusional ÒdiversionsÓ ...

Beccause the "fire" of feeling always brings us together,

Furthermore, we do not even need to proclaim it, sing it to the winds or announce it, singing it,

At dawn;

Silent, effective, we recover the Middle Kingdom, the blue sphere of the earth,

That space beyond the known spaces and that shelters us,

And that shelters all spaces and life in one common and ours,

That home, a clearing in the woods, under the equally silent moon,

Or in the middle of a silent desert, under the blazing Sun, where that fire burns,

That fire which, again and happily, brings us together.