I encourage the days to come,
I call them to crowd together
at my door as sweet
spring flowers
fallen off in long autumn nights.
Snatched away by the gale
in evenings beaming with light
pouring in streams
warmed of doze and shadow,
I compel them for nesting,
noisy,
under the eaves and clefts
of this narrow abode.
In a rush
of passage birds I make them
come one by one
into the time stretching
and not letting up.
Come now, here is the anxiety
all but smiling from the horizon opening up,
vast and unpredictable
about what has to come.
Here the trace soon to fade away
into the preterite of the irreparable oblivion.
What is all this persistent
gather up stubbles through the aged
and ancient roads
as if were new wisdom?
Didn't you hear it, didn't you feel it?
The worm of the knowledge
rots itself
as a chrysalis
about to burst forth
in sizzling colors,
to delight a life
which just
want to beat its wings
and fly.
