... if this afternoon is copper
and of bronze the wind, the herbs and the cries of the trees,
with unusual fury the March hordes throw their axes at the heart;
on the stone, after ripping the noise - to shreds - the rain hits and rattles;
... on such an afternoon, the crystals scolded and stirred, a ray of distant light is a friendly face,
a flight, a hope, a glow of infinite faith, love and knowledge;
… Ah companions, listen and do not spread fear or the circular feast of the hours;
all copper afternoons are not worth the rumor of life or the slight trembling of a tear;
... in my heart, millions of tears run in front of these March axes
built and brandished by me today, and these, which you sense or hear, are their hard blows.
= = = = =
Antonio Justel Rodriguez
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Antonio Justel Rodriguez. Published on e-Stories.org on 03/27/2021.