Antonio Caralps Sobrera

Time is short
for your need.
Bohemian lights
illuminate the city.

No more prizes
remain to be delivered,
Nor the bohemians
of yesteryear.

We thought we were better
but let ourselves be deceived,
Making countless mistakes
by surrendering.

From night to day
it was realized,
that in a gallery
it was easier to sell.

Calm was offered
like never before,
You pay with your soul
to a certain Mephisto.

For a few gold coins
or a humble painting,
Even a great treasure
for a sculpture.

Children of a lesser god
who allowed themselves to be sold,
To the first buyer
who made an offer.

Here it is projected,
the cross is projected,
In the same way it is injected,
light is injected.

Light and reason
display their class,
In the sacred heart
and Montparnasse station.

Now her name is forgotten
but she still appears,
Between shadows
of yesterday’s Paris.

Where I used to reside
and live eternal mourning,
To share once more
with my model of the past.

Now everything is forgotten
you don’t wish to remember,
That part of life
you strive to forget.

Yet precisely
we have always been evoked,
By time and youth
for our sins.

Everything is understood
out of obligation,
When a canvas is sold
the celebration unfolds.

But that’s now the past
it will never be the same,
Everything has finally arrived
and gone virtual.

(Antonio Jose Caralps Sobrera is a globally renowned Spanish poet and script writer of our time. The poet hails from Barcelona, and lives in San Agustin, Aragon of Spain. The above poem is translated from Spanish by multilingual poet from Nepal Santosh Kumar Pokharel.)