#the man of solitude

[esuemmanuel]

Let us let ourselves flow into the pages. Perhaps in this way we will find a little peace.

Dejémosnos fluir en las hojas. Quizás así encontremos un poco de paz.

[esuemmanuel]

Just thinking that you write, that you put your hands to the pages, that you take the pen and breathe before capturing what you feel... Just thinking about you, believe me, I melt into particles that flow with the wind and try to caress your breath… your skin… your hair… to feel you, at least a little, while life takes me to the sky with your scent impregnated in me.

De sólo pensar que escribes, que llevas tus manos a las hojas, que tomas la pluma y respiras antes de plasmar lo que sientes. De sólo pensarte, créeme, me deshago en partículas que fluyen con el viento y buscan acariciarte la respiración… la piel… los cabellos… para sentirte, un poco al menos, mientras la vida me lleva al cielo con tu aroma impregnado en mí.

[esuemmanuel]

There are people who are so used to the comfort of the prison they have built for themselves that when they are tempted by freedom, they tend to dare to go out a little, just to deprive themselves of the wonderful discomfort of leaving their comfort zone, and so they return to their prison and avoid going out again. For these people there is no happiness, they do not believe in it. In their minds, there is only comfort as a synonym for pleasure or peace (nothing could be further from reality). In reality, they are cowardly people who are afraid to live, but most of all, they are afraid to experience life and all that it entails. Honestly, I don't like people who are emotionally cowardly; those who are incapable of giving themselves the opportunity to question what is inside them or to analyze themselves through art. In the case of writing, no matter how the word is used, a coward will never be able to get out of himself if he does not dare to break his taboos, his irrational ideas and his denying emotions. It is precisely because of the freedom that writing demands that it is an art, because it is a tool that helps to express the human psyche. So why lock yourself in the prison of denial, of fear and of the poison that destroys the intention to express your inner voice? Why lock yourself up in absolute silence?

Hay personas que están tan acostumbradas a la comodidad de la prisión que se han construido que, cuando se ven tentadas por la libertad, tienden a atreverse a salir un poco, sólo para privarse de la maravillosa incomodidad de salir de su zona de comfort, y así vuelven a su prisión y evitan volver a salir. Para estas personas, la felicidad no existe, no creen en ella. En sus mentes sólo existe la comodidad como sinónimo de placer o paz (nada más lejos de la realidad). En realidad, son personas cobardes que tienen miedo a vivir, pero sobre todo, tienen miedo a experimentar la vida y todo lo que conlleva. Sinceramente, no me gustan las personas que son cobardes emocionalmente hablando; aquellas que son incapaces de darse la oportunidad de cuestionarse lo que llevan dentro o de analizarse a través del arte. En el caso de la escritura, no importa cómo se utilice la palabra, un cobarde nunca podrá salir de sí mismo si no se atreve a romper sus tabúes, sus ideas irracionales y sus emociones negadoras. Es precisamente por la libertad que exige la escritura que es un arte, ya que es una herramienta que ayuda a la expresión de la psique humana. Entonces, ¿por qué encerrarse en la prisión de la negación, del miedo y del veneno que destruye la intención de expresar la voz se lleva dentro? ¿Por qué encerrarse en el silencio absoluto?

[esuemmanuel]

If we were given eyes, it was to see, just as we were given a soul to feel and a sensitivity to point out what hurts us, because what hurts is not right… and must be made known!

Si se nos dieron ojos ha sido para ver, así como se nos dio alma para sentir y sensibilidad para señalar lo que nos duele, porque lo que duele no está bien… ¡y se tiene que hacer saber!

[esuemmanuel]

La desilusión mata más que la realidad. La realidad se tolera. La desilusión se sufre.

Disillusionment kills more than reality. Reality is tolerated. Disillusionment is suffered.

[esuemmanuel]

What a delight it is to feel this way… and that you are the one who provokes me. How I wish I could never wake up to hold you in my arms and dream while smiling. Please, I beg you, be a dream with me and transform with me this imagined reality into an infinite creation of love and feeling.

Qué delicia es sentirme así… y que seas tú quien me provoque. Cómo quisiera no despertar para tenerte entre mis brazos y soñar sonriendo. Por favor, te lo pido, sé un sueño junto a mí y transforma conmigo esta realidad imaginada en una creación infinita de amor y sentir.

[esuemmanuel]

Me he preguntado si, cada que te sueño, es porque tú estás pensando en mí.

I've wondered if, every time I dream of you, it's because you're thinking of me.

[esuemmanuel]

How good life feels when you are surrounded by people who love you as you love them.

Qué bien se siente la vida cuando estás rodeado de gente que te ama como tú le amas.

[esuemmanuel]

When one's dream is the love of words, the only way to make it come true is by writing.

Cuando se tiene por sueño el amor a la palabra, la única manera de hacerlo realidad es escribiendo.

[esuemmanuel]

Se le escribe a quien sabe leer, a quien no... ni se le voltea a ver.

We write to those who can read, to those who can't… we don't even look at them.

[esuemmanuel]

If I had all the words in the world in my hands, I wouldn't stop touching you.

Si tuviera todas las palabras del mundo en las manos, no dejaría de tocarte.

[esuemmanuel]

Somos tan parecidos que duele.

We are so similar that it hurts.

[esuemmanuel]

Take care of your eyes, in them you carry your soul.

Cuídate los ojos, en ellos llevas el alma.

[esuemmanuel]

It's true, love - the real kind - brings you back to yourself, even if you didn't realize you were away from yourself. It brings you closer to your essence, reminds you of what you are and have been for all eternity, makes you look at yourself with clear eyes and an open soul; it takes away your fears, calms your doubts, makes you regain confidence in yourself. Love - yes, the real one - will make you look at the key to your heart, the one you never lost, but thought you did because you distrusted your own heart.

Es verdad, el amor —el verdadero— te devuelve a ti mismo, aun si no te habías dado cuenta de que estabas alejado de ti. Te acerca a tu esencia, te recuerda lo que eres y has sido por toda la eternidad, te hace mirarte con ojos limpios y el alma abierta; te quita los miedos, te calla las dudas, te hace recuperar la confianza en ti. El amor —sí, el verdadero— te hará mirar la llave a tu corazón, ésa que jamás perdiste, pero creíste haberlo hecho por desconfiar de tu propio corazón.

[esuemmanuel]

You are already eternal in Me. I will keep you in the leaves, I will sublimate you in words, I will elevate you to the high summits of love possessed by temperance. You will be part of My history, a precious chapter that I will read every day of all my lives. There will be no other name that, when I pronounce it, will ignite the boilers of my hell nor will there be another waterwheel that, when it rains, descends to the earth with the scent of Paradise. I will not love you like the others. I love you with every molecule that makes up what I Am. Be it matter and be it energy. Be thought and word. Be it intention and action. I love You, You… my other Self.

[esuemmanuel]

Protecting your heart while I protect mine; tell me if this is not loving.

Protegerte el corazón mientras protejo el mío; dime si esto no es amar.