Poem of the Day. Rosario Murillo
di
Redazione Italia, May 05, 2016
Redazione Italia, May 05, 2016
 |
IN THE CLOCK OF
THE WATER
THE WATER
A
woman writes a poem with golden edges,
woman writes a poem with golden edges,
dreams
wonders born from her chest,
wonders born from her chest,
everything
seems possible.
seems possible.
Her
body is a multitude,
body is a multitude,
has
just hands and feet,
just hands and feet,
and
its pores remind us of the transparency of the angels,
its pores remind us of the transparency of the angels,
when
they sit on the clouds to hunt sparks for their flashes.
they sit on the clouds to hunt sparks for their flashes.
A
woman wakes up made up of beaches,
woman wakes up made up of beaches,
made
of salt, which is plenty of concerts,
of salt, which is plenty of concerts,
which
are all languages of the world, of births and deaths,
are all languages of the world, of births and deaths,
which
are all the unknown of the world and of life.
are all the unknown of the world and of life.
A
woman wakes up artificer of her mysteries,
woman wakes up artificer of her mysteries,
possesses
the power of her voice,
the power of her voice,
and
writes a poem with golden edges,
writes a poem with golden edges,
on
the fragility of lightning and waves.
the fragility of lightning and waves.
