FIELD OF POPPIES

… this flame, this beacon of blood and living fires that shines before us,
where did it come from, who brought it to us…?
lighting them, between borders and wheat a wandering god shines and marches,
ah, can't you see it…?
it is as beautiful as a lark's song,
and as sweet and fertile as a wisp of living grass;
… the heart follows it and follows it, and the soul, enraptured, ignites and burns within it;
come, come, then, and gather me,
for I wander in wisps along the roads and the air, and, like mortal light, I am scattered across the meadow;
… I, I, who fit and live in a humble reed or rye plant,
in a prayer of rain,
in one, in a drop of love,
in this one,
in this one alone.
***
Antonio Justel Rodríguez
<htps://www.oriondepanthoseas.com>
***