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THE
PARK OF YOUR GAMES
The sun shone, the stars were gleaming,
amaranth blossomed in the flowerbed,
emeralds and rubies dwelt within the grass,
and you, my full moon, stood upright,
hardly aware, not yet knowing the story.
I remember our park,
you played freely, and I delighted in
your games overflowing with vigor,
your smiling charm,
the winterless years of your perfect childhood,
the crystal fountains, the graceful larks,
the willows stretched their branches toward the sky,
the day was serene.
You, inexperienced, let time make its
journey,
hardly noticing,
not knowing that the moment lived is already past,
that the future becomes the present
and the flowers will one day lose their petals.
Night fell upon the sleeping garden,
and you, my new moon, wandered confused,
your eyes blinded by streetlights and advertisements.
The sun no longer shone, nor the stars,
the amaranth withered in the flowerbed,
the willow branches drooped toward the ground,
the leaves of your worn laurel succumbed,
and the cypress took root.
Longing moaned
for the park of frosted mornings;
emeralds and rubies no longer adorned the grass,
nor were you, my moon, high above;
you played among shadows,
eclipsing your pure adolescence,
hardly aware, not knowing the story,
squandering the moment.
Today tranquility carries the fragrance
of your first garden.
It blooms again beneath your intimate spell of orange blossoms.
You shall return as a full moon, mirrored in light,
with the primordial sun,
to your enchanted park in bloom.
Emma-Margarita
R. A.-Valdés
Traductora:
Vekas Rodica
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Pintor: Ricardo Sanz
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