Someone’s soft hand presses against the teeth
The penitence of poor hearts like peaches,
And does flesh’s scream thread up to the stars,
This never-ending thirst, as old as the byways?
These eyes know there is a kingdom the other side of
And from angel to cricket praises go up to God,
And God grants good luck to those loving eyes
That remain open till dawn’s doors open.
You can see God shining in the eyes of those who wait,
In those burning tongues trembling like flames,
The shining bread, eternal pardon and succour
Beyond wandering and steaming woods.
Here you have him: Man.
His dreams seeded with stars and virgins,
His soul like a saw, brandished unbreakable,
And dirty feet wandering lost amongst rocks
And eyes that love only the light of Rome.
The hands that rang the bells up to the clouds
Or buried laurel crosses in the wheat fields
Would sometimes see how, in their fingers,
Gentle tools would grow into swords.
What a night, when swords were raised against the
And Nero’s chariots rose up into the sky!
The night smoked with blood and testimony
And the wind went weeping over the very sea.
And, when Death touched them,
They saw a very soft hand putting out
One light and lighting another, so, very happy,
They slowly came to the entrance of the Kingdom-
Just as on days of heavy snow the robin
Perches to sing on the labourer’s door.