silencio de porcelana

🌸✨ Silencio de Porcelana

Silencio… recorre mi alma,

silencio… recorre mi ser.

Es como una brisa suave

que no puedo detener.

Se desliza en lo invisible,

susurrando sin voz,

llenando cada rincón

donde antes habitaba el calor.

Siento que soy un terrón de azúcar

que se disuelve en el café…

desapareciendo lentamente,

sin que nadie lo llegue a ver.

Me sumerjo en este mundo de porcelana,

frágil, eterno… casi irreal,

rodeada de rosas encantadas

que no dejan de brillar.

Y aun así… lo sé.

Sé que es una ilusión la que abrazo,

un suspiro que no puede quedarse,

un sueño que se rompe en mis manos

mientras intento no desvanecerme.

Y en lo profundo… me veo en un sueño,

en una visión que no logro entender,

violines llorando notas sonoras,

bailarinas danzando sin poderse sostener.

Sin cabezas… girando, girando sin cesar,

como ecos perdidos en un tiempo sin final,

y tu amor… deshojándose en silencio,

como una flor marchita en medio del vendaval.

Silencio… me habla.

Silencio… me hiere.

“Me estorbas… me molestas…”

susurra dentro de mi mente,

mientras esas palabras se clavan

como agujas que no quieren soltarse.

Como una sinfonía de violines,

en una orquesta invisible,

que toca en el viento

de otra dimensión secreta…

Y mientras sueño…

me veo a mí misma,

de cinco años,

frente a un manantial de agua cristalina.

Miro mi reflejo…

tan puro, tan intacto…

y poco a poco desaparece,

arrastrado por el tiempo.

Era una ilusión…

pensé que los príncipes adultos existían.

Pero el mundo mintió.

No existen. 💔✨

English

🌸✨ Silence of Porcelain (Victorian Style)

Silence doth wander through my soul,

and gently passeth through my being.

Like unto a tender breeze it moveth,

which I possess no power to stay.

It stealeth softly through the unseen,

uttering whispers without a voice,

filling each chamber of my heart

where once warmth had made its dwelling.

I feel as though I were but sugar,

cast into a cup of bitter coffee,

melting slowly into nothingness,

unnoticed by all who pass me by.

Into this world of porcelain I descend—

so fragile, so eternal, so near to dream—

encircled by enchanted roses

that glow with a beauty not of this earth.

And yet… I know.

I know it is illusion I embrace,

a fleeting sigh that cannot linger,

a vision shattered within my hands

as I strive not to fade away.

And in the deep of slumber’s veil,

I behold myself within a vision—

violins weeping their mournful tones,

and dancers moving without their balance.

Headless forms… turning without cease,

like echoes lost beyond all time,

and thy love… falling into silence,

as a withered flower cast into the storm.

Silence… it speaketh unto me.

Silence… it woundeth me still.

“Thou art a burden… thou art unwelcome…”

thus it murmureth within my mind,

and those cruel words do pierce me deeply,

like needles that refuse release.

As though a symphony of violins

were played by unseen hands,

within the winds of some hidden realm

unknown to mortal sight.

And whilst I dream…

I behold myself once more—

a child of but five years,

standing before a crystal spring.

I gaze upon that gentle reflection,

so pure, so untouched by sorrow…

yet slowly it doth vanish,

carried away by the passing of time.

It was but illusion…

For I had believed

that noble princes walked among men.

Yet the world hath spoken falsely.

They do not exist. 💔✨

English

Silence of Porcelain

(Refined Victorian Rendering)

Silence doth wander through my soul,

and softly linger in my being;

like unto a tender, fleeting breeze,

it moveth where I may not hinder.

It glideth through the unseen veil,

uttering whispers void of sound,

and filleth every hollow chamber

where once warm light was gently found.

Methinks I am but sugared dust,

cast into a bitter draught of coffee,

there to dissolve in quiet surrender,

unmarked, unseen, and soon forgotten.

Into this realm of porcelain I descend—

so frail, so everlasting, yet unreal—

encircled by enchanted roses

whose beauty mocketh what I feel.

And yet… I know.

I know full well ‘tis but illusion

that mine own weary arms embrace,

a sigh too brief to linger long,

a dream that shattereth in its place.

And in the deep of slumber’s shroud,

I behold a vision most obscure—

violins lament in trembling tones,

and dancers sway, yet stand unsure.

Headless forms, in endless turning,

circling without rest or end,

like echoes wandering lost in time

no mortal soul may comprehend.

And thy love… it falleth silent,

as petals from a withered bloom,

scattered low within the tempest,

forsaken to a quiet doom.

Silence… it speaketh unto me.

Silence… it woundeth ever still.

“Thou art a burden… most unwelcome…”

thus it whispereth against my will,

and those cruel utterances linger,

like sharpened needles in my mind,

refusing solace, granting naught

but anguish none may leave behind.

As though a mournful symphony

were borne by unseen hands afar,

within the winds of some hidden realm

beyond the reach of guiding star.

And whilst I dream…

I behold mine younger self once more—

a child of but five tender years—

who standeth by a crystal spring

untroubled yet by sorrow’s tears.

I gaze upon that gentle likeness,

so pure, so untouched by worldly pain…

yet lo, it fadeth, slowly lost,

as time doth claim it once again.

It was but illusion…

For I, in tender innocence, believed

that noble princes walked this earth.

Yet cruel the world hath proven thus:

They do not exist. 💔✨