9. The Cosmic Dance - El Baile Cósmico (a unique collaborative poem) - Voice Over
El Diario de un Lunatico #9
Two voices, The stranger and Ethereal Twilight Poetry, in a unique, one of a kind collaborative poem!
THE COSMIC DANCE… EL BAILE CÓSMICO
Some nights, even the moon goes quiet.
This poem grew out of that silence—a bilingual dance between two poets, A blend of English and Spanish, trying to write through creative drought, emotional numbness, and the stubborn longing to feel again. Between la luna enfadada and a heart that won’t bloom, between catarsis cósmica and a shadowed mirror, the voices meet in one orbiting question: what happens when the words stop, but the soul still wants to dance?
**The voice over is something else, magical!
*An all-English version will be provided at the bottom.
©The Stranger
*Writing is where my heart has chosen to stay. If these letters have kept you company, you’re welcome to help keep the ink flowing — one quiet coffee at a time.
The Poem (The Stranger, Ethereal Twilight Poetry)
Las palabras ya no quieren salir,
No quieren explotar como antes.
Los versos no fluyen como
Un río corriendo de la montaña
Hacia el mar y más adelante
Deseo que mis palabras naden
En el océano azul cruzando el horizonte.
La luna ya no me mira,
Ni me da la luz que me inspira
Quiero escribir sin parar
Quiero vaciar mi cabeza
De toda la tiniebla tóxica.
Pensamientos cruzando emociones
Ansiedad mezclada con rabia.
Sitting, thinking, and thinking, what’s missing?
The absence of him or my own will
To find meaning in chaos, or in still order
I’m not used to feeling nothing, empty.
My cup consistently overflows with emotions.
Underneath the calm exterior, there are thunderstorms.
The night sky whispers for me to reveal:
Something I hide, perhaps the feelings of drought.
I’m not being watered, I can’t and won’t bloom.
But my body won’t let me wilt either, why?
---
A lo mejor la luna está enfadada
Está harta de la hipocresía
Que defina mi vida dramática
¿Ahora qué voy a hacer?
¿Cómo puedo reconciliarme con mi amor eterno?
Voy a imaginarla ahí arriba sonriendo
Voy a dejar que el lápiz dibuja líneas
Líneas conectando las estrellas brillantes
Voy a iluminar el entorno de la luna
Para que ella suba al escenario
No voy a hablar yo, voy a dejarla hablar
Yo aquí sentado en la tierra escuchando
La musica melódica de la luna
Hoy eres el poeta; estoy aquí escuchándote.
And the pain won’t come,
The joy of the summer got robbed.
My flesh remembers the rain of thoughts,
But my bones barely hold my form.
My lips make out the words,
But in the twilight of “almost.”
My hand barely grazes,
Between the light and the dark, I hold.
Will I kiss the mirror of the shadowed poet?
Where we make out the letters,
That spell out a loving sonnet?
De repente empezó a llover
Y yo comencé a llorar sin querer.
Las lágrimas del cielo y las mías
Unieron y inundaron el cosmos
gotas de lluvia que limpiaba mi alma
¡Es la única catarsis cósmica!
Y en ese momento exactamente,
La luna salió de su lugar de escondida,
Bajó lentamente para abrazarme,
Y yo volé para acariciarla.
Empezamos a bailar los dos,
Entre la tierra y el cielo,
¡Las estrellas miraban y el viento aplaudía!
And through passing seasons,
When it rains
My soaking heart will find its way.
THE END
All-English Version (The Stranger, Ethereal Twilight Poetry)
The words no longer want to come out,
They don’t want to explode like before.
The verses don’t flow like
a river running from the mountain
toward the sea and beyond.
I want my words to swim
in the blue ocean, crossing the horizon.
The moon no longer looks at me,
nor gives me the light that inspires me.
I want to write without stopping,
I want to empty my head
of all the toxic darkness.
Thoughts crossing emotions,
anxiety mixed with rage.
Sitting, thinking, and thinking, what’s missing?
The absence of him or my own will
To find meaning in chaos, or in still order
I’m not used to feeling nothing, empty.
My cup consistently overflows with emotions.
Underneath the calm exterior, there are thunderstorms.
The night sky whispers for me to reveal:
Something I hide, perhaps the feelings of drought.
I’m not being watered, I can’t and won’t bloom.
But my body won’t let me wilt either, why?
---
Perhaps the moon is angry,
fed up with the hypocrisy
That defines my dramatic life.
What am I going to do now?
How can I reconcile with my eternal love?
I will imagine her up there smiling.
I will let the pencil draw lines,
lines connecting the brilliant stars.
I will illuminate the moon’s surroundings
so she can take the stage.
I won’t speak; I will let her speak.
I sit here on earth listening
to the melodic music of the moon.
Today you are the poet; I am here listening to you.
And the pain won’t come,
The joy of the summer got robbed.
My flesh remembers the rain of thoughts,
But my bones barely hold my form.
My lips make out the words,
But in the twilight of “almost.”
My hand barely grazes,
Between the light and the dark, I hold.
Will I kiss the mirror of the shadowed poet?
Where we make out the letters,
That spell out a loving sonnet?
Suddenly it started to rain,
And I began to cry without wanting to.
The tears of the sky and mine
joined and flooded the cosmos,
raindrops that cleansed my soul.
It is the only cosmic catharsis!
And in that exact moment,
The moon left her hiding place,
descended slowly to embrace me,
And I flew to caress her.
We began to dance, the two of us,
between earth and sky,
The stars watching, the wind applauding!
And through passing seasons,
When it rains
My soaking heart will find its way.
THE END
*Writing is where my heart has chosen to stay. If these letters have kept you company, you’re welcome to help keep the ink flowing — one quiet coffee at a time.
Two voices resting inside the same silence, not forcing feeling, not escaping it.
When words slow down like this, something deeper keeps moving.
The dance continues, even when the music is barely heard.
This very much makes me wish I could freakin read Spanish 😩 writers block is such a fascinating thing and I love the release here.