The Walker
01-20-2010, 08:40 PM
Here it is the "Walker".
It's just a first try since the original was in spanish; so let me think how good ( or bad) it sounds.
Here it is the spanish version too for those that may enjoy it ;)
The Walker
He is a gentleman of distant lands that explores the world in footsteps. You notice it when you fix your eyes on his complexion so delicate like cream mixed with porcelain and in his sienna color eyes which the sun accentuates. Such dark brown are his eyes, sharp spears, and deep. Now his cheeks are sunk like his eyes that rest on used tea bags. The only thing that contrast is his yarn hair, converted in minimized branches clogged to his jaw; branches that hide his lips from all stares; his formal clothes, too, are pierced like if they have lose themselves of tiredness.
He is the gentleman that walks outside my house. Still you can see his natural royalty through the windows of his soul. But the grace and delicacy had flown away with the wind of the afternoon and the rudeness has remained; and a roughness like of wood in his face. He keeps silent as if we were not worthy of his words. He won’t look down; instead you’ll say he intimidated you. He walks slowly as if no one expects him, like if no one cares his arrival. He walks as if he’d know that of his wealth is nothing left.
El Caminante
El es un caballero de tierras lejanas que explora el mundo a pisadas. Lo notas al fijarte en su tez (clara) tan delicada como crema mezclada con porcelana; y en su cabello de color siena cuales el sol acentuaba. Tal cual café puro son sus ojos oscuros, lanzas punzantes, y profundos. Ahora sus mejillas están hundidas al igual que sus ojos que descansan sobre bolsas de te usadas. Lo único que contrasta es su cabello de hilo, convertido en ramas minimizadas que se tupen para cubrir su quijada; ramas que esconden sus labios de todas las miradas; también sus ropas formales están agujereadas como si ellas mismas se hubieran soltando del cansancio.
Él es el caballero que camina cerca de mi casa. Aun puedes ver su natural realeza a través de las ventanas de su alma. Mas su gracia y delicadeza han volado con el viento de la tarde y se ha quedado la rudeza, y una aspereza como de madera en su semblante. El calla como si no fuéramos dignos de sus palabras. No bajara la mirada, sino más bien tú dirás que te intimidaba. El camina lento como si nadie lo esperara, como si a nadie le importara su llegada. Camina como si supiera que de su riqueza ya no queda nada.
It's just a first try since the original was in spanish; so let me think how good ( or bad) it sounds.
Here it is the spanish version too for those that may enjoy it ;)
The Walker
He is a gentleman of distant lands that explores the world in footsteps. You notice it when you fix your eyes on his complexion so delicate like cream mixed with porcelain and in his sienna color eyes which the sun accentuates. Such dark brown are his eyes, sharp spears, and deep. Now his cheeks are sunk like his eyes that rest on used tea bags. The only thing that contrast is his yarn hair, converted in minimized branches clogged to his jaw; branches that hide his lips from all stares; his formal clothes, too, are pierced like if they have lose themselves of tiredness.
He is the gentleman that walks outside my house. Still you can see his natural royalty through the windows of his soul. But the grace and delicacy had flown away with the wind of the afternoon and the rudeness has remained; and a roughness like of wood in his face. He keeps silent as if we were not worthy of his words. He won’t look down; instead you’ll say he intimidated you. He walks slowly as if no one expects him, like if no one cares his arrival. He walks as if he’d know that of his wealth is nothing left.
El Caminante
El es un caballero de tierras lejanas que explora el mundo a pisadas. Lo notas al fijarte en su tez (clara) tan delicada como crema mezclada con porcelana; y en su cabello de color siena cuales el sol acentuaba. Tal cual café puro son sus ojos oscuros, lanzas punzantes, y profundos. Ahora sus mejillas están hundidas al igual que sus ojos que descansan sobre bolsas de te usadas. Lo único que contrasta es su cabello de hilo, convertido en ramas minimizadas que se tupen para cubrir su quijada; ramas que esconden sus labios de todas las miradas; también sus ropas formales están agujereadas como si ellas mismas se hubieran soltando del cansancio.
Él es el caballero que camina cerca de mi casa. Aun puedes ver su natural realeza a través de las ventanas de su alma. Mas su gracia y delicadeza han volado con el viento de la tarde y se ha quedado la rudeza, y una aspereza como de madera en su semblante. El calla como si no fuéramos dignos de sus palabras. No bajara la mirada, sino más bien tú dirás que te intimidaba. El camina lento como si nadie lo esperara, como si a nadie le importara su llegada. Camina como si supiera que de su riqueza ya no queda nada.