...A Pocas Palabras

  Break a thing Repair it Or get a new one.  Break a person There’s no repairing Possible.  I’m sorry,  You shall get a new one.  © Grecia Albornoz 2020

(A Rather Formal Letter to an Old Friend) Santiago, September 21st, 2018 Dear People from my Past, You’re too many. It’s so hard for me to address you…I should start over. But who starts over in a letter? Dear Dearest People from my Past, Those Who Have Considered Me Significant at Some Point, Those Who Have Loved Me, Those I’ve Loved, Those I Miss, As time passes, it becomes more and more difficult (for me) to talk to you; and it’s been such a long time… I often feel like writing, but I hardly ever do. You know I’m not very communicative. That doesn’t mean I don’t remember you, though. I always do. But you know me... forgive me. You, however, are very communicative. I find your daily Facebook posts so entertaining. I share them sometimes, and sometimes you share mine. I only wish (at times, wish) some of them were addressed at me. But I understand the cynicism in that demand. I can’t (and won’t) ask for that.  The times we share (even online) are fun. And I

El gato En la puerta: “ Miau ”- Un gato pedigüeño. “ ¡Ay, sale gato! Hoy no estamos para dar amor de gratis ”.- Otra alma no retribuida. © Grecia Albornoz 2017 The cat At the door: “ Meow ”- A begging cat. “ Shoo! Shoo, cat! Not in the mood for giving love for free today” . - Said another unrequited soul. © Grecia Albornoz 2017

Let’s play hide and seek Only that I’ll hide And you won’t Necessarily Look For me. © Grecia Albornoz 2017 Las escondidas Juguemos a las escondidas Sólo que esta vez Yo me esconderé Y tu No necesariamente Me buscarás . © Grecia Albornoz 2017

Someone you don’t know He’s bewilderment; a real surprise I lose and regain every day. He who chose to be my partner for his mere love of adventure, who dared to love me, who showed me who he is, and rests on my shoulder, he’s... someone you don’t know. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz Alguien que tú no conoces Es desconcierto; una verdadera sorpresa que gano y pierdo cada día. El que eligió ser mi compañero por puro gusto a la aventura, que se atrevió a quererme, que me mostró quien era y que descansa en mi hombro,   é l es... alguien que t ú no conoces. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz

TÚ He llegado al conocimiento de tu personalidad, Lo que significa ser tú, porque te he visto de cerca Y he sido testigo de tus pensamientos. Puedo decir que he dibujado tus patrones Y te puedo predecir. ¿Cuántas personas pueden decir eso en este mundo? No tu madre, Porque no es para las madres Conocer la oscuridad de sus hijos, Ni tus amigos, Que son tu diversión, Ni tu pasado, Que te reconoce porque creció contigo Y siempre te recibe. Puedo decir que he llegado al conocimiento de tu persona Aunque sea finita y temporal. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You I have come to the realization of your personality What it means to be you I have seen you closely. I’m a witness of your thoughts I can say I have drawn your patterns And I can predict you How many people can say that in this world? Not even your mother, As it’s not for moth

For many years I thought I needed romance To have some poetry in my life. Now, I've understood I am Poetry. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Poesía Por muchos años Pensé que Necesitaba romance Para tener algo de poesía en mi vida. Ahora he entendido que Yo soy La poesía. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz

I've played your game, You've played mine. I've failed on your game, You haven't quite finished mine. I've been left now here alone, Feeling despair, Waiting for you to come back for me,  Once more, Eager,  To finally play my game.  © 2015 Grecia Albornoz ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Nosotros He jugado tu juego, Has jugado el mío. He perdido en tu juego, Tu no has terminado completamente el mío. Me he quedado aquí sola ahora, Sintiendo la desesperanza, Esperando a que tu vengas por mí, Una vez más, Ansioso,  A finalmente jugar mi juego. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz

Tu vacío Mi vacío Tu tristeza Mi tristeza Tu pasado  Y mi pasado Se juntan Apresuradamente Se disfrazan  De consuelo Y crecen A tu pulso Tus abrazos  Se sienten míos Tus tristezas Tus vacíos Y los míos Crecen A mi pulso Y Se ocultan Se abandonan Por presentes De nuevos vacíos Y tristezas Que crecen. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz

The voice in my head Pleaded to give him space And so I did. Through the windows of my eyes I saw him leave, Just slowly… The voice in my head was right; I'm not speaking to it anymore. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz La voz en mi cabeza Rogó que le diera espacio Y así lo hice. A través de las ventanas de mis ojos Lo vi partir, Poco a poco… La voz en mi cabeza tenía razón; Ya no le hablo más. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz

Y seremos viejos, Y sufriremos (de) algo, Y los afanes de la juventud  Nos servirán de nada, Y nos atormentar á n nuestras tristezas, Y querremos morir… Cuando seamos viejos, Los 20 se ahogar á n, Y sus travesuras, Y no te acordarás de mi, Y no me acordaré de ti. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz And we will be old, And we will suffer (from) something, And the struggles of our youth Will be meaningless, And our sadness will torment us, And we will want to die... When we are old, Our 20s will drown,  And its naughtiness, And you will not remember me, And I will not remember you. © 2015 Grecia Albornoz

M y mom and dad stopped loving each other a long time ago. They have left their unresolved issues take over them, they have hid their pain  and regret deep inside their chests, and now they just can’t take it anymore. I have always thought their marriage was too complex for me to decipher and sometimes I think there is only a thin thread keeping them from falling apart. When I think of home, I think of yellow and warmth. My parents have done an amazing job at creating a home; they had prayed together, they had stood by each other at difficult times (poverty and disease) but they have also done each other wrong. I believe they’re more like friends now although I remember they once told me they had no friends; not real friends: “People usually aren't friends with each other; there isn't such a thing” -Mom said. “Not even Mr. A, our neighbor”-She pointed out. In my mind, Mr. A and his family were the closest example of loyal friends; or that I thought. “Not even him” I