Footprints of the Queen Without a Crown
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Today, I have impatiently asked an absolute favor to dusk, taking advantage of its beauty and singular bright. Fallen to my knees and among flowery singings, I asked silence… The dalliance of the leaves and its slow decline to the rhythm of the wind’s chimes, sounded like pianos’ notes, similar to those rumors which discredit the melancholy… …I just want to write to a lovely lady things that my heart can’t keep any more, just like some sprouts before maturity… My heart is a cup full of feelings: Getting away from me like waives, shedding with my bloody passion which with each heartbeat, burns like fire fountains and this isn’t but love… the one she started. I want to express, for example, that her breeze is enough for me to make sure her heart beats alongside the path of these clouds, not planned by the sky or seen by the sun… …that just the smell of a rose is enough for my flaming soul of a pleasing tenderness, to get a single sigh equivalent to a song, so sincere, as the one possessed by a nightingale. Everything calmed down, the seeds were scattered along the way and I do not know why, but even the rivers were entrusted to the birds so they could drink water at the shore’s reflection. It seems my eased soul has been detached from itself in a stave traced by the hands of a landscape that lulls myself as a child. I wish I could say so many things, I want to burnish every word, see the amber color of a heartfelt whisper, I want to ask God why my magic has been truncated: Look at me Father, notice how her absence makes me sweat unstoppably, notice how despair is slowly burning me, touch these hands created by you in a torrential sweating, while my soul among scars, already crackles! Let the her voice be played by the gales, let all trees and cypresses break out in a wild movement, sway the swallows’ sleepiness, let all whistles and singings join me! I just want to shout that I love her, that there isn’t language in the continents of my soul, able to let her come closer and provoke with a sigh, an unforgettable collision to the sound of a kiss, creating melodies as simple as her name and clear as the sky...
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About the Book
Footprints of the Queen without a Crown, represents itself, the most important poetic work in the incipient literary career of the author. Written among some unique corners of Canada and surrounding areas: British Columbia, Quebec and Ontario, this book has been the greatest display of unrestrained inspiration, admiration and love for life and women, that the poet has embodied through letters and, where metaphors are broken with the solemn chant lost among words. Emerging from a sudden romance within long hours of snowy solitudes, this poetry will achieve, between sounds and cadences, to unfold the reader to a sudden emotional revolution, where there will be no space for logic, and where death does not matter anymore, but inspire and praise to the end, because it is through the language of the soul in which we really understand our existence… Love is like the cigarette of the poet, often inspiring and almost always kills, its absence tend to exasperate, you can throw and tread on it, or enjoy it until it fades off…
About the Author
Ricardo Galvan Barquin (Guanajuato, Mexico 1978- ). Since childhood and used to the solitary creativity leaded by his ideas, Ricardo was always a keen observer and meticulous nature tracker. Muted by some platonic love and passionately delivered in love, it was in his youth, when he discovered his literary vocation behind countless love letters and under the poetry’s inebriation by the Chilean poet, Pablo Neruda. In 2002, he temporarily changed residence to the majestic country of Canada… a spring and a summer, were enough time to change his life through chaste and nuanced landscapes, and the love of a lady. With almost eighteen years in poetic creation, Ricardo has written about 440 poems. He recognizes himself as an influenced being from the womb by the magical Rhymes of the Spanish poet Gustavo Adolfo Becquer.