In your sweet face everything is beautiful
because I look at death, I’m happy;
when I contemplate you, emotions give me strength
if I see in your eyes my sparkle.

Life plays with those
who die by the lives they live;
With a dreamy minty gaze
and I’m starting to consume you by your neck…

My tongue sweetens if I look at you
little tasteful skulls of many flavors,
I feel sorry if I break you, if you shine,
the sugar brighten my sigh,
sequins of snow in its glow:
death is the color that seduces me.

Julie Sopetran
(Spanish poet)
eltiempohabitado.wordpress.com

The subject transforms into a work of art.
Coffee colored earth
Is the faith.
And one little Mayan house so that the immobile body is shed.
And little fresh water for the soul’s journey
one Cheche Itza mouth of open sky to learn
the waters
of the unknown…
Ixchel has not died
A nest, a tower, an angel, the clouds.
The thirst of the sublime!
Coffee colored earth
the faith.
The ones who always save us from monotony.
And the cross and the small blue door, blue, blue…
That opens the immense.
Everything transcends
Because it is the most profound: death,
And also to die we need a home where to stay in.
Coffee colored earth
the faith.

Julie Sopetran
(Spanish poet)
eltiempohabitado.wordpress.com

Everything transcend through candle, in bread, in flower, in hands…
The land grows green, they are vital memories;
the Huastecan wilderness: immortal women
who continue to rule from distant planes.

Salt and sugar from the breads or a silence of grains
of corn, inflamed within ancestral rites;
it is like a song medley of flowing springs
which transmutes their essence to human beings.

Skin weathered in the belief of ancestral dreams.
Tradition sculpted in majestic posture…
Your lit candles open new pathways.

Those who left have returned, your deeds reflect it,
your gaze, your expression, your wise tenderness
that exhales the purity of a divine well-being.

Julie Sopetran
Spanish Poet
eltiempohabitado.wordpress.com

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)
eltiempohabitado.wordpress.com