Colonial homes with arcades of Corinthian-style capitals crowning its columns, raising proudly, in silence, suspended in time, as if awaiting my arrival… Sky-high old trees aiming to embrace shady plazas, seemingly inviting one to sit for a while and rest taking shelter from the sun under their leaves.    

That is my capital, the centennial Havana with contrasting colors, bathed by the sea; its well-kept beauty among worn-out paving stones, cobbles that in other times might have perhaps known my steps,. Curious and expectant, I now wander  along streets and high walls…. A timeless questioning about feelings springing to my soul.

And thus, along your streets  I walk, yearning for the foreboding presence of distant years…hiding in midst feelings of love and encounters behind window gratings…. vaguely reminiscent of the fragrance of the flower you so gallantly and  secretly offered me… aromas of a love destined not to be,  sheltered  under a star-studded  sky… complicity of lovers in the night of Havana.

With closed eyes, my heart wishes to let feelings flow, awakening in long ago vanished years… beyond time…. as if  I could turn the clock back with my own hands and catch those moments…. So as to not let you go toward the sea that once split us apart, never to be  reunited…

And my soul  hurts  for not having the memories that my aching soul sheltered silently …. unable to reach them today…. just knowing they are still there and that perhaps one day, in the loom of my dreams I might again weave that lace, white interlining edgings like the foam of the sea, feeling the spell and once more savoring our encounters in the magic of the nights…

Amalia Marín Muñoz.–  A poem dedicated to the 500th anniversary of Havana