TOD DER STILLE: EPOPEY

“…folds of death walked on silver cushions,
and the air and the dawn played with tears;
“…on the river fords, the chest opened by a knife,
the silence bloodied, left life in the water…”.
“…the deep echoes of the morning awoke,
the mother-beds trembled, the myrtles and the broom…”.
“…a parenthesis of astonishment crossed trembling in flames,
mounting the twelve mares that give birth to mother-of-pearl foals…”.
“…under a flood of sorrow, when the moon is orange,
the dew tore the veins through rushes and brambles…”.
“… let him rock the lilies and sing by the waterfalls,
let him watch over the bridges, let him alone in the calm…”.
“… like a pure lover – black tulle, white face –
loneliness in its cloisters, barefoot, cried at dawn…”.
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Antonio Justel/Orión de Panthoseas
https://oriondepanthoseas.com
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