Héctor Palacios Flores
The Power of Words
Poems By
Héctor Palacios Flores
La fuerza de las palabras
Hector Palacios F.


Sigo el silencio: la luz del sol que descansa en las paredes.
Sigo los minutos, marco el ritmo de su paso: lento, agonico.
Miro los objetos: dos cuadros pequenos, dos figuras de porcelana y
dos soldaditos de plomo.  Cada objeto tiene su propia historia.

Esta casa, refugio del tiempo, guarda tu historia.  Alla, las ventanas llenas  de polvo enmohecen el recuerdo.  Aqui, a un lado. la pieza vacia, el closet abandonado, enriquecen tus angustias. Solo oyes ruidos que te asaltan, pasos que te siguen.  

Nadie viene. Nadie te visita. ?Eres tu o es tu sombra? Dibujas las ansias de tus suenos.  Llenas hojas de papel, aranas los recuerdos. ? Poesia? ?Llamas a eso poesia?
Seria mejor que arrullaras el cuerpo del olvido, tocaras los dedos frios de la noche. Y, asi, mudo y sin sentido, te cobijaras con el manto del silencio.

Tocas a mi puerta, me llamas, y me dices:  no eres tu el eligido. No es a ti a quien he de clavar las unas de la arrogancia. !Basta ya!  !Dejame en paz! Es inutil que te aferres a mi.

?Y estos anos?   ?Estas cadenas que arrastran mis pies?
Ir y venir por el mundo.  Rodar en el tiempo.  Caminar y caminar...


Pisar el suelo, pisar los anos.  Andar entre sombras y el desaliento en la garganta.
?No es la fama, acaso, la gloria de los muertos?

Miro el sol que agoniza; derrama su fuego en las palabras; las ilumina, las quema. Despues, las cenizas cubren mis ojos.

Abril 30
2011 © Hector Palacios F.

The Power Of Words
2011 © Hector Palacios F.




IFollow the silence: the light of the sun that rests on the wall.
I follow the minutes; I mark the rhythm of their passage: slow, agonizing.
I see the objects: two small paintings, two figures of porcelain and two small soldiers of lead.  Each object has its history.

This house, a refuge of time, guards your history. There, the dusty windows enhance the memory. Here on one side, the empty room, the abandoned closet; they increase your anguish. You hear noises that assault you, footsteps that follow you.

No one comes here, no one visits you. Is it you or is it your shadow?
You draw the anxiety of your dreams, you fill sheets of paper, you scratch memories.
Poetry?  You call this poetry?
It would be better that you rock the baby of memory; touch the cold fingers of the night, and in this way, somber and without feeling, you cover yourself with a wrap of silence.

You knock on my door, you call me,  and you say to me: you are not the chosen one. It is not for you that I claw my nails of arrogance.   Enough now!  Leave me in peace!  It is useless to hold me.

And these years?  And these chains that drag on my feet?
Going back and fourth throughout the world;  roll over time, walk and walk.

Walk among shadows without hope. Stepping on the ground, stepping on the years.  
Is it not by chance, that fame is the glory of the dead?

I watch the sun as it agonizes and spills its fire on the words; it lights them, it burns them;  
and after, the ashes cover my eyes.

Héctor Palacios Flores,  English Translation by Margarita Agilar Shubart
Héctor Palacios Flores
Poems By Héctor Palacio Flores
Book of Poetry
by
  Héctor Palacio Flores

Original Poems in Spanish with English Translations
A Wonderful book for poets, lovers of language and for those studying Spanish or English.  
This book makes language studies fun
Click image for sample pages
Interior and Cover Art
Emmanuelle Guyon
Interior Art
Mellizza Castillanos Rios
In this book of poems,  Hector Palacios Flores offers English and Spanish language translation to aid the language student.

Professor of literature Hector Palacios Flores is a poet now living in Oaxaca City, Mexico
Buy through this site  for $11.95 USD,  free shipping in North America
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