Eve

sometimes things are more than they seem to be...

 

Eve

 

This afternoon the gardens

 

 

of Earth have flourished;

past twilights were gray

as monotonous twilight of winter. 

This afternoon spring was born again: 

the veiled horizons discovered

dormant villages;

there were roses and violets in the blue of the firmament,

there was fabulous magic of colors and essences;

it was a nightfall of those

sweet springs in which my soul

seems to wander. 

 

In the nothing a something of deep transparencies floated

 

 

and the turns of the breezes, in a moment

drew themselves trembling;

a wave darkened the mysteries

of the evening... 

In the religious heavens

the stars of twilight half-opened;

and my soul was lost in the vague mist

of the last quiet and melancholy gardens... 

By the trees stuffed of blacknesses

there are terrors of some somnolent monsters,

of colossal snakes rolled

and gigantic scorpions;

and seems that of the depth of the paths

some mourning men come... 

The gardens are full of visions;

there are visions in my soul…

I feel cold, I am alone, I am sleepy... 

Memories pile up in my mind,

the softest memories

of the late evenings that gave me their colors,

their essences and their touch. 

So sweet are those afternoons of the land!,

(ah, the eves of heaven!) 

 

© 2008 Valerie Jones

Reviews

[Wildecat]

You painted a magnificent picture with your words, the imagery was spectactular. A very nice write.