According to a Cloud Whispering to her Sister
According to my father According to his neighbour According to a scarecrow in the field That accuses the lazy birds Of not waking the timid morning
Of shaking the roses' shirt And confusing the dew -
According to a cloud sitting on a shoulder of words That returns wet with a kind child Whose neighbours pretend not to notice him So he can choose the apples from their dresses And fiddle with the cherries -
According to a child pulling a big bag of books Ascending the rhythm victoriously on music's scale –
According to my father According to a seagull under his shirt That was trained by the sea's rituals And chose a moon, pasting it on the ceiling of his words –
According to a cloud which, prior to the train, left him a card Bearing the words, 'The horse keeps the home company' –
And according to my father...and me, I say (to a cloud sitting whispering to her sister) That the youth planted the poem in a vessel of water But the girl's hand took root on a stone And on a precious stone, another stone sat me
'So, my son, watch out The poem does not sleep on a bed for passers-by So don’t trust the water You will not drag the wise sea by your hand After this. O son...' But he goes back to his silence In his eyes a sky extinguished again
But I found the sea lying on her dress The sea emerges from its solemnity Crosses the street of survivors Towards the café It rises out of its clothes And descends into a poem Like an absent-minded tourist Spilling the coffee of meaning over his delirium
And the sea walks out of the port Smiling Elegant in its simplicity Dragging Saturday by the ears Confiscating its cigarette ends And pushing it to the calendar
And the sea… ‘Don’t you have a sail?’ I said, Father, the youth’s cloud followed him to the café His heart's needle suspended on a star Father, This is the story of a cloud which descended to the water of words
‘And you – do you believe that?’ Father, The youth planted the poem in a vessel of water But the girl Sat sewing the ceiling of her sky The girl, just like us Was distracted in her shyness Then her Lord dropped into her palm She covered him with the other, and he slept.
This is the story of a cloud which descended to the water of words. |
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