emmajane16.1775
In the forest background of the day
The simple act of the spider weaving a star
in the gloom,
the elastic step of the cat towards the butterfly,
the hand that slides down the warm back of the horse,
the sidereal smell of the coffee flower,
the blue taste of vanilla,
they stop me at the bottom of the day.
There is a concave glow of ferns,
an Insect Resonance,
a changing presence of water in the stone corners.
I recognize here my age made of wild sounds,
of orchid fire,
of warm forest space,
where the woodpecker chimes the time.
Here the sunset invents a red rhinestones,
a constellation of fireflies,
a fall of lucid leaves towards the senses,
towards the end of the day,
where my free bones are enchanted.
by Vicente Gerbasi
Maison de L'amitie, Dekade (155, 36, 23) - Moderado
In the forest background of the day
The simple act of the spider weaving a star
in the gloom,
the elastic step of the cat towards the butterfly,
the hand that slides down the warm back of the horse,
the sidereal smell of the coffee flower,
the blue taste of vanilla,
they stop me at the bottom of the day.
There is a concave glow of ferns,
an Insect Resonance,
a changing presence of water in the stone corners.
I recognize here my age made of wild sounds,
of orchid fire,
of warm forest space,
where the woodpecker chimes the time.
Here the sunset invents a red rhinestones,
a constellation of fireflies,
a fall of lucid leaves towards the senses,
towards the end of the day,
where my free bones are enchanted.
by Vicente Gerbasi
Maison de L'amitie, Dekade (155, 36, 23) - Moderado