COPPER AFTERNOON

…if this afternoon is copper
and of bronze the wind, the grasses and the cries of the trees,
With unusual fury, the March hordes throw their axes at the heart;
On the stone, after tearing the noise - in shreds - the rain hits and clatters;
… on an afternoon like this, the windows rebuked and incited, a ray of distant light is a friendly face,
a flight, a hope, a glow of infinite faith, love and knowledge;
…ah companions, listen and let there be no fear or the circular feast of the hours;
all the copper afternoons are not worth the rumor of life nor the slight tremor of a tear;
…in my heart, millions of tears run in front of these axes of March
by me built and brandished today, and these, the ones you sense or hear, are their hard blows.
***
Antonio Justel/Orion of Panthoseas
***