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| Vania Inés Díaz Flores |
WHEN THEY ASK ME ABOUT DEATH
Tomorrow I will not be,
Everything I have been today,
Tomorrow I will not be flesh or bone,
I will be a memory that fades
In the memory of those who knew me.
I will only take with me what I’ve learned,
And I will only carry with me
The bullets of life and time.
If they ask me about death,
I will be brief and meaningless.
I will look at the shadow of fate
And remember life
how painting pictures
In the times I was happy.
I will be a companion of the moon,
Dancing with the stars,
An ecstatic skull
That the night cradles in its embrace.
If they ask me about death,
I will say that I have broken wings,
To fly away from this world,
From which I will keep walking
In an eternal feast
Of wine, pleasures, and poetry.
Until I rise to the heavens
Where I will remain deeply asleep,
In my eternal bed,
With dreams of happy memories
That fade like sand between fingers,
Leaving the threads of life behind.
Leaving the threads of time behind.
LOVING WOMAN
Every day you peek through the dawn.
Beautiful woman with a bad look.
With a broken heart that no one understands,
That a dream to fall in the real world.
I’d like to know if behind that walk,
There’s a tear waiting to fall.
Dear loving woman,
Mystery of the night, sweetness of crimson lips,
You wrap your skin in moonlight,
In white sheets that should not be revealed.
Beautiful woman, you hide that mystery in your stride,
Love wilts when, upon closing the door,
He sleeps beneath the shadow of your vanity.
You wish to guess what hides behind that gaze,
Between the warmth of the moon, sated by sleeping skin,
Or if, when the day arrives, he won’t forget you.
Woman who pleads,
For other lips you only want to kiss.
You look towards the horizon and can already imagine it.
I’ll fly with him until the end!
The lullaby you could sing in the future,
The waltz you could dance with him,
But the hours pass,
And those dreams will wither.
Sincere heart,
Why must you fall in love now?
The noises of the city return,
That heavy sack of duties,
How hard it is to carry!
The metallic noise of the cars returns,
And the sound of your heels as you walk.
Close the door once more,
Loving woman, only your dreams
Like butterflies, will fly.
Close the door, he still sleeps.
Don’t wake him,
Let him dream just like you,
Of a tomorrow that will only arrive in dreams.
I LOVE YOU, COMPANION
I love you, through the silences of my soul,
While it remains asleep,
Between your hugs and your kisses,
Which, in the morning, are a wonder.
I love you, like the aurora of a new day that peeks through,
Making you feel alive,
Amidst the chaos of the city, duties, and routine.
And I love you for being the delicate flower,
Of our passionate encounters,
Full of fire in winter.
I love you, secretly from the envious,
And I hold your hand,
Through places that may not seem beautiful.
I love you, in silence and with madness,
And with the tenderness of making ours eternal,
Like the falling universe,
Like the verse to the rain.
I love you, like the poetess loves the letters of the wind,
For the commitment of life,
And our ring.
I love you, as if to spend an eternity,
Loving our wrinkles,
Our silences, and our times.
I love you, companion of eternal nights,
Taciturn between coffee, laughter, and dreams.
I love you between the future and the uncertain,
I love you, even if the sun fades,
And death separates us.
I still love you, my love, my life,
my refuge, my solace.
DIABOLOUS IN MY HEAD
The days and nights
Taste to me like how bitter glass of wine,
Like a broken glass between my teeth,
Like a bird just fallen from the nest.
I know I’ve suffered distant regrets
And I’ve sinned crazily.
So much so, that these lifeless walls
Seem not to listen to me.
I have a painted smile on my face,
A smile, truly cowardly.
Diabolus in my head, they echo,
Asking me to tell the fates
To cut the thread of this, my life.
Red threads tangle
With no way out,
Under the pleasure of their eyes,
That does not belong to their owner.
Nights tinged with nostalgia,
Here or there, always the same.
An empty heart searching for its home,
An empty heart that no one waits for.
Embracing your shadow,
I only ask for a little tenderness.
Please unfold your wings!
And take me where people
Can finally dream.
PASSENGER BETWEEN YOUR BUTTERFLY DREAMS
Passenger between your butterfly dreams,
I lose myself in the solitude of sky-blue night,
At the rhythm of burning water,
And with broken wings.
I get lost in your maddening memory,
Of sleeping caresses and ardent passion.
I was but a passenger between butterfly dreams.
A divine comedy, that of your eyes,
Professing loves of lyric beauty,
That sounds so sweet in fairy-tale novels.
I dreamed beneath your wings, like a bird in the desert.
Your smile revealed to me an endless game.
Woman a friend, woman love unnamed,
To be only a part of a forgotten memory.
You didnt let me leave in time,
With north wind of my soul.
You painted me loves on blank papers,
You painted me loves that were only dreams.
A love unowned, maddened insomnia,
This growing grief falls from my heart,
Longing to feel love again,
Despite what people say.
A betrayal with the name of a flower,
Was your crimson kiss upon my forehead.
A betrayal with the name of love,
Was your kiss on my lips,
a forewarning of death,
That follows me anywhere.
And wherever I went, I left alone.
An embrace still waiting for you, one you abandon,
sky blue nights sleeping with your memory,
Remembering when we shared
Our dreams.
Protect me, angel, from this silent vigil,
That when dawn arrives,
It may vanish along with his memory.
Goodbye through that door,
Once more I say farewell to you,
Goodbye, love my inspiration, my lover, my friend.
Beneath the shadow of your embrace, I bid you goodbye,
For having once again felt love
not deserved.
GEISHA EYES OF RAIN
Rain eyes, I went each night,
Ignoring the beating of your heart,
Your blood that made me tremble under the red moon.
I never wished to be more than I was, until your mouth caught me
In a tender, nameless kiss, amidst the shadows.
I tried to freeze my blood to not feel the echo of your voice,
I tried to let this thorn, that keeps me from your being,
For not to feel pain.
You fell into my soul like Gabriel's hell.
Is it that this Geisha cannot deserve you?
Rain eyes, each night I stood by your window,
Sharing the dreams you kept silently on your pillow.
You flee like the wind through sakura blossoms,
Without my chance to sing you one last melody to remember.
How many days and nights did we laugh endlessly!
I see you through the mirror of my dreams, through the veil of my desires,
so distant!
Rain eyes are my torment, seeing you leave with the sakura flowers.
Your night-like skin betrays my thoughts,
Imagining that in another life, I might still find you.
Geisha, each April night,
Savoring every moment as if it were the end.
With these rain eyes, I drank gin,
Watching your departure, knowing I could not follow.
You were my sweet spring in the winter of the hardest branches,
You were part of my being under that red moon,
Where I tasted the pleasure of your dark fruits.
Nameless rain eyes, I`m a book-like memory in your life.
Beneath this mask hides
The pleasure of having fallen asleep in your arms.
Guilty pleasure of the complicit night that shared our fantasies,
Guilty love, which now finds no escape.
THE SKULL WOMAN
I have a story to tell you.
Without a preamble, her misfortune,
The story of this skull lady,
That for love he lost his laughter.
Many made fun of her,
For at every moment malice pursued her.
His misunderstood love from the shadows is not released,
Her beloved lies dead in her arms,
After having fought in the war.
The crying of her little one does not let her sleep without pain,
The soul of that poor child is crying out for love beneath the earth.
The skull lady did not reach the point of being an old woman,
Well, her youth for her was just a passing life.
A crown of flowers adorns her head,
In an eternal sleep, awakening does not wait.
Jasmine and roses accompany him in his death,
But there is no one who visits the grave of the skull woman.
Some call her La Catrina, for me she is just a soul in pain,
In a wedding dress her shadow walks,
Between cemeteries and the road,
Maybe looking for her husband, maybe looking for her son,
Or looking for someone who wants it.
GOOD NIGHT BABY
More than in the womb you knew.
small blessing, that one day in January disappeared.
Like the soft breeze, with my sweet love,
The sweetness of your heart disappears between my arms.
Some wanted you to be a doctor, others a writer.
But, in your small world, what did you know about a profession?
Many of us wanted to meet you to see who you would be like,
But life decided that from heaven you would take care of us all.
mother's love,
With breasts full of cold milk,
Your brothers are imagining the games and fights they would have.
Your beautiful smile tomorrow, I can only imagine it.
Now the arms of the Creator rock you, in a cradle of stars,
Singing carols, the angels are,
For this child who sleeps, far from the evil of humanity
Go to sleep child, you never have to cry.
From the earth they reach you, mom's goodnight kisses.
I ASK THE NIGHT
Sometimes I wonder if death is painless.
But you appear,
Like a light among the shadows,
Of the echoes of my loneliness.
Among the fog,
That doesn't let me see your face,
Among the night,
That doesn't let me see your hands.
Sometimes the devil whispers,
Among the trains that go fast,
And they make me wonder,
If these will be the ones that take me to purgatory.
I ask the night,
In a sad and melancholy dream,
If the bleeding eyes of my country,
Someday they can see the light.
I bow by right to a flag,
And I shout Homeland! in the middle of the flames.
And you appear,
Who I haven't seen in so long!
With holes in the eyes and gags for the voice.
You appear,
Among the shadows of a history that repeats itself,
Like a seventy-three.
I embrace your torn, tortured and violated body,
Killed in battle as an unsung national hero.
It's you,
Who I haven't seen in so long,
And today you sleep in the arms,
From a wooden sarcophagus,
Like so many others who fell,
In the hope of a new day.
Vania Inés Díaz Flores
Known in the literary world as Niniel Neveu or "The Skull Lady," she was born on October 29, 1991, in Santiago, Chile.
A tourism technician and human resources engineer by profession, her writings focus on themes of suspense, horror, melancholic poetry, articles, as well as poetic declamation and theatrical performances.
She has published her works on various platforms, including her personal page Niniel Neveu cuentos y poesías, Los cuentacuentos de terror (publications and podcasts, Colombia), Cuentos de terror para antes de ir a dormir and Lectores de media noche (Mexico), Entre verso y rima nació la poesía and Percepciones Literarias (Argentina) with the suspense story Agujero en el tiempo, Selección de cuentos de Mara Cocco (Argentina), and in an interview for the newspaper Sol de Tampico (Mexico). She has also contributed to the radio show La Corte Bizarra (Spain), and her works have appeared in Komuya magazine (Colombia) and Delatripa magazine (Mexico). Additionally, she published micro-fiction stories for the Fóbica Fest festival (Mexico).
She participated with her poetry in the Micrófono Abierto segment of the Gaia Festival (Chile), the Mundial de Poesía Internacional, and the Feria del Libro in Lima, Peru. Her horror stories were featured in La Furia del Libro in Chile.
Vania was one of the winners of the Juan Botana competition in Argentina with her poem Le pregunto a la noche. She was selected as a Latin American writer for the Cristo Redentor Award in Cochabamba, Bolivia, and was among the top ten winners of the micro-fiction contest Gramáta Escritores. She also won third place in the friendly competition of the Poetry Slam tournament in Chile.
She is a member of the writers' collective Grammata (Colombia), the international women's collective Micros En Doce, and the international writers' collective Umbral Radio (Argentina).
Her anthology contributions include:
Antología de Microrrelatos Internacionales (Micros en Doce)
Letras del Mundo
Caras de Latinoamérica
Contar desde lo mínimo: Antología de Microrrelatos
Sargazos: Antología de Relatos y Poesías de Mar
Recently, she participated in the micro-fiction workshop Contar desde lo mínimo (Chile), La poesía se niega a la caricia, and was a columnist for Agenda Mujer magazine in the motherhood section, contributing to its launches in Chile and Mexico.
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