... while the slight tremor with which the river runs and marches shines and shines,
- as if it burns huge of light and gold -
on the golden masts of the cacti, the aura of the trees and the freshness of the grass;
... but here, and at this moment, no, there are no fears or hatreds, no fires, no rush,
because the god of the world has set fire to time and air, peace and silence,
- and blue and very high, there, very high, high, very high -
the total and sidereal infinity of the sky shines and shines;
... after this look - with a hymn of wings - breaks and suddenly the breeze rises,
which, in its Olympic flight,
it is throwing cinnamon, honey, ethers and amber, no, not only to the transmuting swing of anger,
but, and also, these trifling and extremely fragile verses of eternal apprentices or human novices.
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 01/23/2021.