Anoche
Yo te puse extendida....rodando en mis silencios
atravesando la noche de paredes azules
para contemplar tu rostro con ternura

Tu sueño atajó el color de la noche
Y liberó la pasión que habita en mí
Eres luz distante
y cercana
Nuestras manos juntas atraparon nuestros rayos

Pero no lo recuerdas
Ni recuerdas tus quejidos colgados de las vigas
Ni el bermellón vibrante de mis besos en ti
Aún tus aromas perfuman mis albas.



Aùn tu fragancia  pervive en mì
Aunque no puedas recordar

la lluvia de pètalos de vidrio 
que fueron tus caricias en mì

Acercame en tu ausencia
Estrella que titilas llena de viento
Quiebra con la escarcha de tus manos el bloque silìceo de mi melancolía
Aviva en tì el aliento eterno de tu hoguera
Mi recuerdo

Tu ne te souviens pas :

Hier soir
Je t'ai allongée... roulant dans mes silences.
traversant la nuit aux murs bleus
pour contempler ton visage avec tendresse

Ton rêve a interrompu la couleur de la nuit
Et a libéré la passion qui habite en moi...
Tu es une lumière lointaine
et proche.
Nos mains jointes ont capturé nos rayons.

Mais tu ne t'en souviens pas.
Tu ne te souviens pas non plus de tes gémissements suspendus aux poutres
Ni du vermillon vibrant de mes baisers sur toi
Tes parfums embaument encore mes aubes.



Ton parfum  vit encore en moi
Même si tu ne peux pas te souvenir

de la pluie de pétales de verre 
qui étaient tes caresses sur moi

Rapproche-moi en ton absence
Étoile qui scintilles, pleine de vent
Brise avec le givre de tes mains le bloc siliceux de ma mélancolie
Ravive en toi le souffle éternel de ton feu
Mon souvenir


Ieri sera...
Ti ho distesa... rotolando nei miei silenzi
attraversando la notte dalle pareti blu
per contemplare il tuo viso con tenerezza

Il tuo sogno ha interrotto il colore della notte
E ha liberato la passione che abita in me
Sei luce lontana
e vicina
Le nostre mani unite hanno catturato i nostri raggi

Ma tu non te lo ricordi
Né ricordi i tuoi gemiti appesi alle travi
Né il vermiglio vibrante dei miei baci su di te
Ancora i tuoi profumi profumano le mie albe



Ancora la tua fragranza  pervive in me
Anche se non riesci a ricordare

la pioggia di petali di vetro 
che erano le tue carezze su di me

Avvicinami alla tua assenza
Stella che brilli piena di vento
Rompi con il gelo delle tue mani il blocco siliceo della mia malinconia
Ravviva in te il respiro eterno del tuo falò
Il mio ricordo



Last night
I laid you down... rolling in my silences
crossing the night of blue walls
to gaze tenderly at your face

Your dream cut through the color of the night
And unleashed the passion that dwells within me
You are distant light
and close light
Our hands together caught our rays

But you don't remember
You don't remember your moans hanging from the beams
Nor the vibrant vermilion of my kisses on you
Yet your scents perfume my dawns



Yet your fragrance  lives on in me
Even though you can't remember

the rain of glass petals 
that were your caresses on me

Bring me closer in your absence
Star that twinkles full of wind
Break the siliceous block of my melancholy with the frost of your hands
Enliven in you the eternal breath of your bonfire
My memory...


Gabriel Ganiarov
Copurigth: 2012

No me recuerdas

Gabriel Ganiarov
My work is born where language collapses and the tremor takes root. I write poems: I summon resonances. I am neither a producer nor a beatmaker: I am a poet who has learned to breathe with machines, to dance with code, to translate electricity into memory.

This sonic space I inhabit is the extension of my writing. Every song you hear here was conceived from the pulse of a poem—not one that aspires to formal perfection, but to the crack, the fold, the lingering echo of a soul that refuses to be silenced.

I call this gesture synaptic poetry: a lyrical architecture woven from unexpected connections—between word and algorithm, between emotion and machine, between exile and belonging. The melodies that accompany me here were designed with artificial intelligence, but it is my voice that activates them, my story that embodies them, my resistance that gives them meaning. There is no artifice without soul.

I am part of a displaced, fragmented generation—but not a silenced one. I come from the analog age and have evolved into the digital. That is why my aesthetic answers to what I call the Poetics of the Margin: not a lesser aesthetic, but an ethical stance. I write from the edges of the cultural map and from the fissures of the industry; I sing from the diaspora, not as a victim, but as a witness, as an exile of noise and a cartographer of whisper.

Here, on this profile, converge verses sung in more than one language, rhythms that have crossed sonic borders, and wounds that, when they dance, become bridges. Listening to these songs is opening the door to a lyrical continent where nostalgia merges with the digital pulse, and intimacy becomes expansive.

Welcome to this musical frontier where poems pulse and scars sing.
Here there is center, there is root.
Here there is homeland, there is voice.
Here, you can hear the rain falling—and also create from the beat, let the glitch run free, and endow poetry with binary code, in tune with the times we live in…

Poet,Author,Composer,Songwriter. Proudly born in Venezuela, living in Perú
kata ton daimona eiatoy
Follower of the Ligth