The Suit of Lights

Behind closed doors and drawn blinds,

In the midst of this man-made twilight,

I’m putting on my suit of lights*,

My fragile armor;


Woven of silk thread, decorated

With pearls and diamonds,

It is designed not to protect the wearer

But to challenge darkness;


It will not stand the test of steel

Nor this of fire,

And through the fine skin-like fabric

Pain and desire


Hurt, wound and scar the one, who calls

Upon herself the evil of the world

And, like its axis, stands alone

Inside the whirlwind;


Behind closed doors and drawn blinds

In front of a mirror,

Dressed in my suit of lights, I check the fit

Before the devil sees me;


Its fabric glows, its diamonds shine,

Its white pearls glimmer;

It will be torn; I will be killed,

Yet, my heart sings as if I were the winner

*Suit of lights or traje de luces[1] is the traditional clothing that Spanish bullfighters (toreros, picadors and rejoneadors) wear in the bullring. (

The Guest from the Past

This place in my memory

Never was as I see it;

The words I hear echoing

Were by Time paraphrased;


The nostalgia I feel

Half-dreaming up, half-remembering

My past is but myself

Trying to make peace with me;


There were things that I treasured,

A few people, who loved me,

There was a house to call home

And a county – my own;


I’ve been running for years

From the routine some call happiness;

This nostalgia I feel

Is the gap between myself and me