Sunrise in second time

Selected Poems

Geobanys Valle Rojas

©Geobanys Valle Rojas, 2023
©Sunrise in second time. Selected Poems,
2023
All rights reserved

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 Selected Poems

Sunrise in second time

Something to tell you first:

Some time ago I have the concern to

publish some of my works in another
language. I was not sure how to do it,
nor could I say that I had the assistance
of a professional translator to take care
of the translation. English is a language
that I master, although I recognize that
not yet with the perfection required to
assume an endeavor like this. However,
I was able to help myself with the use of
the electronic translator that I found in
the following link
https://www.deepl.com/es/translator,
which I found really amazing and very
useful for the transparency and similarity

5
with which it transferred my ideas from
Spanish to English, without greatly
altering the order, originality and literary
creativity.
Although I must also admit that this is
not a work that is translated from
Spanish to English itself, because the
title is original, in this book of poetry I
gather in a single selection some of the
poems that appear in other of my poetry
books: Luna de ciervo, Estío de cristal,
Ópalo Negro, and Adentro del alma... sí
hace ruido, some already published,
others accepted for publication and
others still unpublished.
I only hope that this material will
contribute to disseminate and reach a
different reading audience what I write,
6
with a language that they can
understand, apart from my mother
tongue, which is Spanish. So it remains
at your disposal, dear reader, the text
entitled: Sunrise in second time.
Selected Poems.

Geobanys Valle Rojas

7
8
Geobanys Valle Rojas

9
GEOBANYS VALLE ROJAS
(Sancti Spíritus, Cuba; 1991), Bachelor
in Pedagogy-Psychology, was a
professor at the University of Sancti
Spíritus "José Martí Pérez", Cuba, where
he obtained the teaching category of
Assistant Professor. Member of the
Cuban Society of Psychology. He has
also been a member of several research
projects, both institutional and corporate.
He has dabbled in poetry, essays,
narrative and research. As part of his
scientific-research production, he has
several scientific articles and
investigative scientific papers published,
such as La formación de la competencia
científica en docentes en proyectos de
investigación (Revista Conrado, 2022,
10
Cuba), El pensamiento de José Martí y
el ideario del Dr. Antolín García Álvarez
en la formación de estudiantes de la
carrera Pedagogía-Psicología (Revista
Atlante. Cuadernos de Educación y
Desarrollo, 2020, Spain), La orientación
educativa en el contexto de los medios
de comunicación masiva (Revista
Márgenes, 2017, Cuba), among others.
He has also published several books,
such as Adentro del alma... sí hace ruido
(Poemario, 2019, Argentina), Oshún y
Yemayá. Como dos Gotas de Agua
(Ethnography, 2016, 2023, USA), and
Ese O, Baba (Stories, 2015, 2023, USA).
He also has articles published in the
books Road to School. Selección de
lectura para la preparación del docente
11
de la universidad (Editorial Universitaria,
2021, Cuba), and in Conciencia e
innovación para el desarrollo sostenible
Vol. 1 (Editorial Edacun, 2021, Cuba).
He holds several awards and has also
received several prizes, such as the
Scientific Merit Award 2015, Silver Medal
at the National Festival of Amateur
Artists of the University Student
Federation in the poetry genre 2016,
among others.

12
Index

On a purple night……………. 17
Effigy of Oscar Wilde……….. 19
Ruth………………………… 22
The blue dance……………. 25
The dream I have left………. 28
Calpurnia…………………… 30
Deer moon……………….. 33
Souvlaki and mastika……… 35
Châtellerault………………. 37
Perfidy of your shadow……. 39
... And I'll dream of you……. 41
To the lover……………… 42

13
Red sky…………………….. 44
Love of my life……………… 46
The most beautiful verses
tonight……………………….. 49
XXII………………………… 52
Innocent…………………… 54
Because I will stay………… 57
To get to know us……………. 59
Vertigo………………………… 61
To your encounter…………. 64
Vieux Papes………………… 66
A lost woman………………. 68
She caresses the silence……. 69
Poetry to Life………………… 72

14
You are very much like my
loneliness……………………. 74
Body on body……………….. 76
A woman looking at a portrait… 79
Utopia………………………… 81

15
16
On a purple night

On a purple night like that

I discover the chords that break
the codes of silence.
It rains a moment inside,
when I feel the smell of the sea
as my lips meet the tips of your breasts.
The effervescence unbalances your
mouth and you moan like a little girl
who wakes up crying out for milk,
in a desperate song,
with your soul in your hands,
rubbing your bare feet next to mine,
remaining like the Venus de Milo who

17
does not renounce the charm of being
perceived like a brushstroke of dawn
on the canvas of the sky.
The sheets are wrung on your skin,
emulating the folds of a shell.
Everything is consented. Shudder
the libidinous words that your ears hear,
and you open your wings like a white
swan that longs to be possessed
at the height of the dance
of the muses of Olympus.

18
Effigy of Oscar Wilde

"I, too, had illusions.

I thought that life was going to be a
brilliant comedy
and you one of its charming characters.
I realized that life was
a foul and horrible tragedy."
Oscar Wilde

The man descended from the mountains.

Staring at the ground,
with the soles of his shoes worn out.
No conceit, no pride, no arrogance,
but an accentuated humility.
His hands had become rough,

19
as if to hold a feather again
to fix on the parchments
his astonishing epiphany.
Captivity left his mind barren and
desolate.
Without lovers, without an audience to
wait for him.
Where an empty theater cheered
his now disowned plays.
The withered eyes could not hide
the need to see him. It was his hope,
his routine dream. It was only the
whisper of a distant memory.
And he wandered in the deserts shouting
his name, with the company of
a stubborn silence.
That young man with golden hair
had condemned him to his ordeal.
20
And now he was looking for him to
accompany him
to the place where he longed to be,
next to that boy with fire in his blood.
And he longed for him cancer, resolute,
delectable.
And he longed for him dilettante to
consensual sodomy.
Their hands intertwined for an instant,
the lips became accomplices of the skin,
and hearts beat in time to
a familiar rhythm. He had found it.
He was happy without knowing he was
no longer.
He loved when love had faded.
But at the end of that last night,
that blond feckless no longer danced by
his side.
21
Ruth

If the world were yours,

you could walk down a single street,
touch what your hands can't reach,
kiss the countenance your lips long for,
and then stand still in an embrace.
You would be, lady, the guardian of
dreams deferred,
and with your keys you would
open the gates of heaven,
so that the rain would fall
on the arid soils.
Your pupils, no longer sleepless or
withered, would glimpse
the blooming fields at dawn.

22
While the singing of the birds would
moderate the pain aroused by the
departure of the homeland.
In the sea, in the air, a part of you was
gone, that on the way
had left you incomplete.
But hold on to Gardel's tango,
because the returning traveler,
sooner or later,
has to stop his walk, to receive you
whole and brimming with happiness.
And you would come to me,
kneeling at the end of the day before
the venerable image of an
Immaculate Virgin.
Your shadow would encircle
the body asleep in prayer.
And I would return to your belly,
23
just as in Mary
full of grace a dying Jesus Christ
remained in her warm arms.

24
The blue dance

He went with his mouth open

waiting for a kiss.
Feet lifted him into the air,
like a bird flying
to reach the sky.
He didn't care about the stones
of the road, and he jumped
cautiously so as not to hurt
the flowers where the butterflies are suck.
Between his hands the clay
found shape, each curve he molded
to the likeness of his body.
While his heart was beating
between precipitate and with furore,

25
his lips bit the fingers
that sought them with seduction.
On his back he lay on the bed,
feeling how the caresses ran down
his spine, slowly, until they reached
to the naked buttocks that awaited him.
It was like an apricot penetrated
by a finger that between its juicy masses
played with pleasure,
until the flesh and juices own
were confused with a thick substance
like a cloud of cotton.
His countenance radiated at the
the rapture aroused.
Feelings met,
and the bells rang out announcing
the new hour. They, in the room,
played at kissing. Without going against
26
nature, without saying a word,
they promised to love each other with
their eyes.
It was then that he called by his name,
and wanted the afternoon not to end,
that the spring would gush forth,
and that their feet would dance together
where no one would see them.

27
The dream I have left

The colorful lights steal the attention of

my eyes, which focus on them
like a child mesmerized by ice cream.
The crowd is silent, between coffee and
cigars that taste like a distant
son montuno.
And I just stand still,
because I'm going to sleep
the sleep I have left.
One that is not recurrent,
better a new one
that wakes me up where
my heart is keep captive,
happy minute by minute.

28
Breathing in the air, lost among
the facades of dazzling buildings,
dancing to the rhythm
of the rushing horns
of the cars, warmed by the sun
that bends me on the sand in front
the white beach.
Among birds migrating through the
clouds, where the constellations mobilize
inspiration and happiness is converted
into a hundred years of freedom.
Where Moscow forgives tears,
the warmth of people makes them
more human, and one God goes out to
all with one and the same name.

29
Calpurnia

To Calpernia Addams

She is trapped in her dream.

She knows that soldiers don't cry.
She knows it's hard to dream....
but still she flies like
a tomeguin that propels itself
over the hidden river.
Will he miss her skin, her kisses,
her country but polite Missouri voice?
Her beau is gone.
Gone, in a fatal dawn.
Gone, as when the eyes
stopped crying.
Gone, without a don't ask, don't talk

30
that she didn't have time to check.
But she loved him in the days she could,
without shows, without sequins that
sparkled diverting the glances,
without a song she had to dub.
It was hers, it was his,
and nothing else was needed when
no matter her fabricated breasts,
her equal private parts
nor the marked Adam's apple.
Because she was a woman,
protruding above
of the robust skin.
Soldiers do not cry,
and they still weep in graves where
white flowers wither,
and they still weep in airplanes
that don't fly,
31
and they still cry in the wars
that they don't win,
and they still weep for the dreams
that do not reach.
They do not speak of idylls disowned,
of unusual canteens
nor of the stages that remain empty,
with the lights on.
And she won a crown with a love
that did not get to see her,
but brought her overthrow on her knees
to the ground,
to scream her name,
though he could no longer hear her.

32
Deer moon

In the night I keep secrets

that only my bedroom knows.
There is complicity between my bed
and my body.
A lover who comes,
after another collapsed kiss that leaves.
My pillow smells of your wet hair.
I feel in my sheets
the trace of your breath.
And there is a taste on my skin
that confuses me,
but I like it like tiramisu,
because it is the perfume of silence.
I keep myself where the moon

33
does not see me.
I prefer deer in the penumbra.
Where offensive caresses console me.
And I kiss a shoulder,
and I bite my biceps and triceps.
And your tongue plays first with my neck,
then with my chest
and ends with my sex.
I murmur at your moan,
that announces the final combat...
She remains my confidant.
But she shares with the wind
the mystery of the kisses
that are not given.

34
Souvlaki and mastika

My feet tremble before the emotion

that their morning embrace arouses.
And a smile escapes me when I
remember our day in Piraeus.
And it's sun; and it's moon;
and it's January.
The cab driver doesn't understand what I
write, while I silently
I only know that I love him.
Love escapes in me
like a crazy adventurer
who can't reach the Marcos Polo
if winter has not yet gone.
Every moment by his side

35
has been a spring that allows me
in his bed to daydream.
A footballer scores his goal,
and I lose myself to give him a kiss.

36
Châtellerault

I don't want to stop time.

I don't want to kiss the cloud.
I don't want to reach the mountain;
or reflect in the lake that covers me.
When your eyes kiss me,
and the thought embraces me.
When your skin undresses me,
and dreams are enough for me.
I draw myself a smile,
I'll tell you if you're in a hurry.
But you arrive on time.
When in my bed there is an emptiness
and in the sea the river always dies.
I don't want to lose the afternoon.

37
I don't want to reach the moon.
My head has no hat.
My heart is not of iron or steel,
and it says your name
when it beats slowly.
I long for a kiss. I remain silent.
And the stars return me to space.
Butterflies fly in my stomach.
My arms is bristless.
I make a speech that no one hears.
I go against all odds.
I don't want distance.
I don't want eyes that don't see.
When two soldiers at war,
so that their love won't die: they fight.

38
Perfidy of your shadow

Today I cry because you are not here.

Your kisses, your absent hands
do not remain for me, you do not feel me.
Your perfidious shadow leaves me
behind.

I hide between the sheets

where I chase your presence.
When you dishonored my innocence
while you loved all of me.

I hope to see you later in dreams

when there is no world. I strive.
My arms long to welcome you.

39
Empty tears hide my peek.
I think of you all and you give me nothing.
I still don't give up this love for you.

40
... And I'll dream of you

Whisper words to me
in the silhouette of a bay.
Show me that you love me,
that my life is all yours.
Bare your soul,
seek my spirit.
Draw a word
in the sand that enamors
at your feet.
Tell me you love me
and I will dream of you.

41
To the lover

My sweet lover
comes at night.
He takes me in his arms
and lifts me up for a while.
And he is sweet, and he is tender
and it's intense.
So hot that it burns
like fire.

My lover friend
devours me in his gaze.
When his kisses eat me,
my skin trembles excited.
And he changes my pose,

42
and steals my silence
and allows sex to enjoy.
As he becomes a demon,
it stays on the skin
in a single touch.

The night that makes us lovers

hides us from unseeing eyes.
The bedroom encloses us in the illusion
of leaving between the sheets
the heart. Then it leaves...
like a shooting star.
No one knows who kisses me
as before.

The night passes, and he will return.

To take me in his arms,
my sweet lover.
43
Red sky

I have been given a red sky

with print shades
that smell of nostalgia to me,
that taste of affection,
that touches my soul.
Where they read me the voice that
lights up the lights in the distance.
And it rains inside for a moment,
but love soon makes it stop.
The sun's rays excite
with their touch the still clouds.
A mountain rises,
I discover Venus among the waters
of my lips, which play at her touch.

44
The red sky is mine,
and Paris shakes me to Havana.
One street, a thousand roads,
I run quick to embrace her.
And my arms light up,
my gaze reflects her.
I am absorbed, more than blind,
I am awakened by sleep
and I can finally kiss her.

45
Love of my life

I will write you a poem

whose name only you know.
I close my eyes, and a scent
of roses discover your face.
Water seduces my hands,
I want to take it.
And it is passion,
and it's delirium,
and it's desire to stay with you.
When you are not there
the soul despairs.
It is heard crying, and
only in your voice it finds calm.
The bed feels your absence,

46
my sofa, my kitchen complains too.
When you are there, life
gives me back a rainbow.
Everything is a party and harmony inside.
If I scold, you it's not because I feel it
and it's because I want you in me:
as you need the air
at all times.
At your side I discovered the light.
I live sadness and a thousand joys.
You gave me the moon in the day,
you carried me in your thoughts.
This heart while it beats
does not forget,
it prefers to kiss you and
to bring you in its sleep.
The most precious thing in
me has been to have you.
47
Because you are the eternal love
of my life.

48
The most beautiful verses
tonight

I can write the most beautiful

verses tonight.

I like you when you are silent

because you're kind of absent.
I like the way you talk
because it phosphoresces the moon
on the wandering waters.
I like you when you smile
because you fill everything for me:

the distance, the oblivion, the pain,

the soul, life, the heart.

49
That's why I can write to you
tonight, in silence,
even if the horizon hides from you,
the most beautiful thing about me.

My heart seeks you and desires you:

to kiss you so many times
under the infinite sky.
My gaze searches for you
and we are no longer the same.

I go sown in the garden

where the dew falls like relief.
I will give you tonight
my word as a man
in the promise to love,
that seduces in the verses
50
prettiest for you.

51
XXII

The piano plays a mischievous melody.

I close my eyes and my heart dreams of
you.
In the darkness my lips kiss you
while my skin takes possession of your
scent.

In the day you are my unexpected desire,

like a letter that destiny writes.
You arrive when I long to be by your side
and it is my bed that receives your sweat.

I kiss you all over, in your body I

contemplate

52
the curves that God is infatuated with.
I no longer go to mass because you are
my temple,

if in the touch of your breasts I find

happiness.
My sex by touching you leads you to
distemper,
for not to provoke you would be a
wretchedness.

53
Innocent

I didn't understand cheese.

Much less about cooking.
I didn't have a house,
much less a car.
My faith was my greatest wealth.
The Caridad was my fuel.
And when I didn't
understand the thunder,
I covered my eyes
instead of my ears.
I didn't know about elves,
until Cupid visited me.
He did not come with an arrow
for nothing. Love hurts

54
and even kills!
when you fall asleep.
I gave my heart,
my dreams and something else.
And I understood that he loses
who gives everything.
It's hard to love when
it's not a time of cholera.
It just happens, in a
rose-colored novel.
It only happens, in a verse
of Tagore.
It only happens,
when it happens,
and it's never forever.
I didn't believe in devils,
my song was innocent.
Until I saw myself in
55
your green eyes,
and God didn't baptize me.

56
Because I will stay

because the night is open-eyed

because the night goes by and I say love
Mario Benedetti

Because I'll stay empty-handed,

waiting for you to come and
steal my dream.
I mean, not steal, if you've already
caught my dream.
Because I'll be left with the rose that
that reveals itself in a black prince.
Because I'll keep the night of Saturday,
or the night I gave you a star.
Because I'll keep the late night
phone calls,

57
while you watched the
Brazilian soap opera.
Because I'll keep the kisses,
with your dancing smell,
with your warm hands
and your smile that lost me in the
immense sea.
Because I will stay with you in the
memory
I won't be able to forget you, as long as
I'm awake here.

58
To get to know us
to my mother, Moraima

Magic was made

when your eyes saw me.
Me: I recorded you in the reflection,
and I became the sentinel
of your vanquished dreams.

You: you dawned in the emotions

that guided you with a passage
to the unknown.
And I felt you in the smell.
As I listened to your voice,
it was a spoiled love,
that made us accomplices of the miracle.
I was lighting a candelabra

59
when I protected myself in your arms.
You gave me a kiss
that invited us to get to know each other.

And I came to you when

the rain was falling.
The sun had set in the twilight.
The scare passed, and every time
I saw you:
I just wanted to calm myself
in the warmth of your embrace.

60
Vertigo

Noon is approaching,
and foolish hands
force you to bed.
Though your heart resisted,
it was your mind that commanded,
disordered.
And the sheets and
the pillow were accomplices.
Time served as a pimp,
there was no music, but
your improvised moans,
when dissembled
like a well you danced.
Those hands urged you

61
to lose yourself in emotion.
If the eyes looked at you,
it was all provocation.
When you said nothing
my heart spoke to you.
It lifted you up in revolt,
and ran through your body,
and kissed your lips,
caressed your breasts,
he found you in the "I love you".
He gave himself to the moment;
he fell asleep in your arms.
He could enjoy every part,
every piece,
every side of you,
with a tender and sublime passion.
You could not bear the vertigo
of so much abyss,
62
I kept you in my voice.

63
To your encounter

I think to love,
and I don't sleep.
I prefer to daydream.
I keep quiet. I breathe. The open eyes
that look at you in the walls,
in the atmosphere, in the wind.
I long for your kisses,
your body. A crazy night
like those in which
one gave himself to the other,
everything solved.
I think of you when I arrive,
and I despair.
I look for you in my mind,

64
in my closed eyelids,
in the dream.
I see you coming, and I
I stand still; while
you lift my soul
and I go to meet you.

65
Vieux Papes

The wind whispers a wakeful song.

Mischievous melody that acclaims the
sea.
The hands seek the passion discovered
of caressing with a kiss the skin that
loves.

I searched for you in my eyes, like a

mirage,
I took myself in the reflection of the
sunset.
A red wine aroused gallant to lyricism,
and with my Vieux Papes I began to love
you.

66
The sayings are pronounced when
speaking,
desire held back for an instant.
I left still the eyes that wanted to look,

a toast between glasses sounded lurking.

The lips stopped the desire to kiss,
but not the intention of being your lover.

67
A lost woman

Losing myself in your mouth.

Losing myself in your scent.
Losing myself in your body
until the dawn comes up.
Asleep in the room
where you kissed me all over.
Lost in the twilight
that visited the bedroom.
Where foolish hands
caressed me all over.
Where someone else's dreams
made me get lost in the waves.

68
She caresses the silence

She caresses the silence

that restores her calm,
while the wistful eyes
wander in search.

Where did her love go?

She does not know.
But she does not give up.

She misses him the sheet,

she feels him among her hills,
she finds him in longing,
she thinks of him at noon.

69
Oh, my hands, bring me his footprint!
yes, that one that clings
to accompany me.
Do not forsake me.

Depart. How could you do without me?

And a distant wave carries you away,
that vehemently prevents the reunion.

She has lost her silence.

Her voice is muffled in her snowy
countenance,
while her pupils transmute into
a lagoon... Although empty.

Call him, how could she?

Search for him, where would I go?
70
Silence turns,
does not pretend to observe her.
The night muses its message...

She has lost.

71
Poetry to Life

Life is not a movie. Nor can it be defined

in a sex. It is only something that gives
you as well as takes away from you.
Even if it has no reason to do so. Or
what is worse: many times it gives or
takes away without us really deserving it.
Life has no name, no taste and no color
that identifies it. For some it is black,
when others live in white. There are
those who enjoy the sweet, and also
those who drink the bitter. Because life is
like theater. Perhaps not in the style of
"Romeo and Juliet", when it preserves
the sense of the comic and the tragic.

72
Sometimes it has the form of an elevator,
to be up for a while, and down for a while.
The cycle is the same, no one can avoid
it, because the law is written: that is
sacred! And if the origin were divine, life
would be more than a biblical passage,
exempted from sin. Life would then be a
blessing, or better a gift, but one of those
that lasts only a short time, and that is
why we must enjoy it.

73
You are very much like my
loneliness

You look so much like my loneliness,

when your sad look confesses it.
You say you like chocolate and
strawberry and that you know
nothing of happiness.

You like to talk about Plato and

engineering, and yet you ignore literature.
I look at you still, fixed at your waist,
thinking of the things you wanted.

I am bold to compare you to my things.

But I tell you in your ear that

74
it cannot be denied:
I like to talk about Socrates or Marilyn,
and as a poem, I prefer
an angel and a rose.

75
Body on body

Between white sheets

banished to silence.
The bed groans when
pleasure hurts.
Hands that touch.
Lips that meet.
Body on body.
And I don't want to know.

The waves of the sea

seem to move agitated.
The tide is high
in a low position.
Friction that burns the skin.

76
Fingers lost in the hair.
Words that acclaim
a joy that is not earthly.
Body on body.
And I don't want to feel it.

Give and take is the "open sesame"

of the moment. The tongue
licks the flavors with enchantment.
The dawn awakens in the
in the middle of the coming climax,
seeking the light with
a nebulous substance.

Silence leaves like

a moan that exclaims.
No doubts, no questions,
says a satisfied smile.
77
Arms tighten.
Breathing is perceived close.
Eyes water in the dull light.

And I don't want to see it.

Body on body.

78
A woman looking at a portrait

An old woman looking at a portrait

declares war on the past.
The wrinkled hand caresses
the young and delicate skin.
The eyes lost in the eyelids
believe again in that glimpse
that reveals other times.
She prefers to look at the black and
white photos,
before smelling their color, which smells
old to him.
She longs for the eclipsed beauty,
the firm lips, the erect bust,
the dreams of Scheherazade.

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And when he returns to the present
he finds the expiration date near
after feeling the wrinkles on her forehead.
That brunette hair has been
replaced by the dominant gray hair.
It happened with the elegance, the joy,
and with all the things she says she had.
A woman who looks at her portrait
says goodbye to youth,
that condemns her to the past.

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Utopia

It nourishes my soul
to contemplate you from afar.
Desire grows in
every sigh that escapes.
I kiss you when I close my eyes
and caress your snowy skin,
that stands out in your red clothes.
We are sweethearts,
though you don't know it.
I love you in silence, like someone who
gives a shooting star
that his dream takes away.
Your arms, your chest,
your scent that reaches me from afar.
Even if the rain falls,

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even if the heat strips us naked
and some bushes separate us:
my soul surrenders to you,
my heart kisses you,
and in your deified skin
my spirit is enraptured.

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