Twelve on the clock

I said: everything already full.

A poplar tree vibrated.

 

the silver leaves

they sounded loving.

 

The greens were grey,

love was sunshine

 

So, noon,

a bird sank

its singing in the wind

with such adoration

that she was delighted

under the wind the flower

grown among the cornfields,

higher.

 

It was me,

center at that moment

so much around,

who saw it all

complete for a god.

I said: all, complete.

Twelve on the clock!

 

by Jorge Guillen

 

::Bella's Lullaby:: www.flickr.com/groups/14818647@N22/, Appletor (77, 99, 23) - Moderado

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Done