Laboratory of Mathematics and Writing

Theres a fire that burns inside a house made of bricks that groan and sigh as they lay atop one another. The windows reflect images of utter discontent much like mirrors during a funeral procession. The doors of every room moan as they swing to let you see whats inside; only crumpled writings, faded photos, broken toys and a dead cat. The paintings that once decorated these rooms fell broken to the floor. Layers of paint peeling off the canvas like Flowers once adorned the window sill. Now their petals lay dried and shriveled up on the filthy carpet In the kitchen the sink is filled with dirty dishes And on the table sits a steak that rotted long ago, filling the room with a pungent stench. Of death, perhaps. Theres an old man beside the fire Whom no one would bother He sits in his wooden chair Rocking back and forth. Watching, waiting. For his days are numbered. Where did it all go? The clock sprouted feet and marched out the front door. Not even bother

I travel on a cold winter morning On top this proud black horse I am mounting Treading path on newly fallen snow That covered the ground not too long ago Deep in the forest inside the valley Over the great big mountain I shall be A forest of enshrouded mystery Is what appears before and surrounds me As I travel the mystical landscape Land of trees and snow my eyes cant escape Strecthing far unto the mighty mountain The mountain of elegant majesty Stands tall above the shining forest Reflecting dreams that I am to obain That float far into the infinity As I turn my head toward the sky And to release a lengthy mournful sigh The sun is dimmed by pale clouds of grey Veil of mist covers the sun on this day I trace a figure upon the blanket Fair figure of my beloved last met Like a colorful beautiful sunset She descends from beyond the faint prospect Spreading magnificent wings of an angel A sight to behold from any angle Now embracing me in her loving arms She

En cada noche, Cuando nasce la obscuridad, La luna canta melodias nocturnas. Cuando las escucha el mar, Se siente un deseo doloroso en el fondo de su alma. Suben las olas. Extienden sus manos para acariciar esa cara tan bella y brillante. Pero no son bastantes largos sus brazos. La luna aun se queda retirada Mirando asi a las estrellas. No escucha el llanto de ese cuerpo de agua que se retuerce Por solo una caricia. Ya no aguanta la noche. Parten los primeros rayos del sol. Y el mar, triste y cansado, Se retira al amanecer.