With the hands of the virgin wind
The wave that kept asking
after the shore for forty years
would turn into coffee for the foam.
That summer when the mountain
dipped its feet into the sea,
so many words slipped through clenched teeth,
so many Julys lingered into evening on the Mediterranean,
the poet sang while gazing into the mirror of his guitar…
then the rain would suddenly fall,
all the wounds in your soul
left by untimely loves would be erased.
I would wait for the buds to burst into roses.
The crimson hues of parting upon the skin
would scatter pomegranates;
I would go and gather them
with the hands of the virgin wind.
At last, the streets would begin to flow,
yearning to become a river.
Chaotic orbit
Summer had arrived.
When the guitars fell silent,
they had already tagged autumn.
The storks, it seemed,
had long since departed in resentment.
Days of liberation and nights of coups
were seeping together
through the hollow of the years.
Mother Nature had named her daughter
September.
Too soon it came
days hunting wrinkles in mirrors.
Pomegranates burst open with a crack,
eager for life.
Trees skipped rope
with the scattered fruit.
Seeds of separation
were sown into the terra rossa,
and every river, regretting its own birth,
began to run red.
The ox had died.
The covenant between death and life
had fallen apart.
The bindings of books
grew thinner and thinner.
A crimson apocalypse
tore loose in the address books of paper.
Too many pens were broken
at the lecterns of poetics;
too much ink
had stained the spaces between fingers.
Purple had passed.
Winter days,
sealed away little by little in jars.
It turned out
a stealthy enemy had long been waiting
at the world’s doorstep.
No one noticed
the one entering through the doors,
watching through the windows,
rising through the chimneys
beneath a black cloak.
Far too tightly stretched
were the strings
of the guitar within us.
The calendar pages
were on the verge of tearing free,
before their appointed time.
The world was but a traveller,
forever circling
in an unknown orbit
of chaos.