Eli Laks












Eli Laks nació el 1ro de mayo de 1979, en Lima, Perú. Vive en Costa Rica. Hace años viajó a Israel en busca de diferentes y originales trabajos y experiencias.

Lleva escribiendo poquísimo tiempo. Su obra muestra un gran talento y sensibilidad excepcionales!

Aquí, Eli...



Soaring in the wind
The ghosts of the redeemers
Fade into the sea.



Mute voices
In the sparkling emptiness
Of the shallow waters
Speak before me

Speak before me
Of the shallow waters
In the sparkling emptiness
Mute voices

These days removed

A willing motive
Moves us through the path
The immortal image flounders
As the weary hermit
Comes back home

Once remembered
Always forgotten
A lonesome cloud
In the horizon
Speaks of the sky
Beyond the deep
And while you wait
A searching light
Will find us


The rock

This is where we stop
Purple skies above us
On this ground we stand
And the rock seems
To be feeling the cold clutches of time
For we are about to fall
And it will be rather awkward
Wouldn’t you say?
In the midst of the nothing
That everpresent entity that faces us
And smiles
And in its own good will
We have no choice but to smile back

this momentous day

A cry from a distance
Over the stepping stone beyond the creek
A man just won the lottery
On the promenade by the sea
Clowns make silly faces
As the bypassers wonder why
The human statue smirked
When it really shouldn’t
A seagull hovers above us
While a lonely cloud passes by
To greet a lonely sun
That’s all I have to say
On this momentous day.


Between sides

Walking north i stop
On a dusty path
Stars shining above me
An old tree beside me
Observing what is left
And what is right
Leave me what is left
For what is right has been taken
And there is nothing
Left but that old willow
the one that’s seen it all
stay away they say
i just sit next to my friend
and don’t listen

The emptiness

A rumbling in the shadows
And then your voice
Cracking into the dark
A soothing whisper
The sun is rising
And as we walk
By the light we understand
Those riddles of the lost.

I, a stranger and afraid

In a world I never made

Yeah its late in the evening. Almost morning



People sitting in every part of this big cubicle. Staring into the technological revolution in the form of flat screens. The thinner these wonders get, the sexier they get to the eye of the fashionable man. Or woman in that respect. Ready to trap the fool.

Most of these people look at pornography. Genitalia of different shapes, sizes and colours gladly trapped in plasma.

So here I am sitting down in this same big cubicle. Trying to be literate, trying to skip all that previous crap for some intake of information that might be useful for the mind. As if. Maybe I should devote my life to look for the keys to the vaults of the Vatican. Maybe there I’ll get some enlightenment. Or better yet, spend 30 years listenning to a gray old man in some remote mountain repeat the same syllable over and over again. Yes, for 30 years.

Why not.











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