???
Left in the desert without food and water,
She neither curse the fate nor stood and still
But endeavor_
in hope,
In the furnace of the sun,
She was burning yet not complaining
Her little shining fruit of love tree,
Was composing a sweet melody;
The melancholy it reminded her,
worked.
She went straight a head;
Following the bending shadow in the front.
She wondered whether it was an exiled or a traveler
Mocking her fate with a perfect mimesis of her manners
Then, some drops of water came down on the soil
Looked up to the sky, the lovely maid but;
Saw nothing to prove of the Rain.
Hopelessly threw her head down
Looking at the bending companion once more,
They talked beyond words
Till the fragile figure fell on
The glimmering bits’,
Wrapping her face with hot kisses.
She still could see the falling of the crystal drops on the land;
Knowing not where it was coming from.
The shadow stood again
When heard the little gift’s symphony,
Her steps played the music of the infant’s notes but;
Her feet were out of tune by wrong vibrations.
Once more the tanned hands of desert, cuddled her
And in generosity handed her its ingredients, but O
“What was the use of them?” she thought.
The shining crystal winked in demanding her trust,
She dug the point of its falling, with
The power of the sweet fading music.
Another crystal followed the former and another and another…
Her energy was regained
The drops came faster and faster
But hide somewhere down the earth
She looked up at heaven to see
Whether he sees her struggling
For the gift he had given her.
Then she found the crystals’ hiding place.
There she collapsed, this time of joy.
She stood up with pride and gazed at the water
While the crystals were still falling.
I recite this happening again and again it arouses unanswerable questions: Is it only the power of love and hope that move a flesh? Love for being abandoned or that of an inferior toward a superior? I know not, but I know well that she was rewarded for her faith; now, who will reward us when we are abandoned in the deserts of isolation with no love and an ineffectual quest for it?
Left in the desert without food and water,
She neither curse the fate nor stood and still
But endeavor_
in hope,
In the furnace of the sun,
She was burning yet not complaining
Her little shining fruit of love tree,
Was composing a sweet melody;
The melancholy it reminded her,
worked.
She went straight a head;
Following the bending shadow in the front.
She wondered whether it was an exiled or a traveler
Mocking her fate with a perfect mimesis of her manners
Then, some drops of water came down on the soil
Looked up to the sky, the lovely maid but;
Saw nothing to prove of the Rain.
Hopelessly threw her head down
Looking at the bending companion once more,
They talked beyond words
Till the fragile figure fell on
The glimmering bits’,
Wrapping her face with hot kisses.
She still could see the falling of the crystal drops on the land;
Knowing not where it was coming from.
The shadow stood again
When heard the little gift’s symphony,
Her steps played the music of the infant’s notes but;
Her feet were out of tune by wrong vibrations.
Once more the tanned hands of desert, cuddled her
And in generosity handed her its ingredients, but O
“What was the use of them?” she thought.
The shining crystal winked in demanding her trust,
She dug the point of its falling, with
The power of the sweet fading music.
Another crystal followed the former and another and another…
Her energy was regained
The drops came faster and faster
But hide somewhere down the earth
She looked up at heaven to see
Whether he sees her struggling
For the gift he had given her.
Then she found the crystals’ hiding place.
There she collapsed, this time of joy.
She stood up with pride and gazed at the water
While the crystals were still falling.
I recite this happening again and again it arouses unanswerable questions: Is it only the power of love and hope that move a flesh? Love for being abandoned or that of an inferior toward a superior? I know not, but I know well that she was rewarded for her faith; now, who will reward us when we are abandoned in the deserts of isolation with no love and an ineffectual quest for it?
