IRRUPTION OF SPRING

... this eclosion, this burst or synaptic spurt of life and form,
this enormous song that starts from the earth and that transcends the sea, the light and the air,
this living temple rising and building itself, like a quantum and galactic flare,
Where does all this come from? Who, who brought it to us...?
...because one dwells, goes out and looks at the wastelands of the world,
and, suddenly, the smoke, the fire, the brightness,
and that, that very sweet age of the heart that accompanies and receives them,
mine and yours, the one that in pure ecstasy everything believes and everything, everything waits, and, that,
Although oppressed by the old horrors with their tragic brightness of their densities:
its stones,
iron shackles in which freedom cries and suffers, against spirit and virtue;
... ergo, then, that under the pink and purple sky,
- what if dawn and soul -
I emerge and cry at this crucial moment for the meadow,
and even. it might still seem that, under so much beauty, mortal wounds and blows did not exist,
because, as they pass, so much enchantment is exhaled by the immortal and incandescent notes of the dew;
... after a deep shudder, the march stopped and I tremble absorbed,
- in mythical and ascetic worship of man -
I lower my eyes and press tightly against my chest the small soul items I carry;
It is an instant of intimate, mysterious and divine fire,
in search of that physiology of light or science of life,
of his wise voice,
the grill of him,
his law:
the exalted rite of contemplation.
***
Antonio Justel
https://www.oriondepanthoseas
***