Deep song of life (poem)

There are days when we're so mobile, so mobile

as the slight wind blades and random.

Perhaps under a different sky Gloria smile us

Life is clear, vague, and open like a sea.

And there are days when we're so fertile, as fertile,

as the field in April, trembling with passion:

under the influence of spiritual provident rain

the soul is sprouting forests of illusion.

And there are days when we're so fertile, as fertile,
as the field in April, trembling with passion:
under the influence of spiritual provident rain
the soul is sprouting forests of illusion.

* And there are days when we're so fragile, so fragile
schooner that children subject to temporary
after the biblical punishment of earthly struggles
the heart speaks of its celestial premises.

And there are days when we're so sordid, so sordid,
involved as a dark dark flint
night surprise us with their profuse lamps
in rutile pricing currencies Good and Evil

And there are days when we're so placid, so placid ...
- children in the twilight! sapphire Lakes! -
a verse, a trill, a mountain, a bird crosses,
and even the sorrows themselves make us smile.

* And there are days when we're so shy, so timid,
as the hidden flower that hides your candor;
to the value of a Hercules touches the soul
perhaps to the trance itself into flower.

**And there are days when we're so lascivious, so lascivious,
that gives us in vain flesh of women:
behind a waist belt and caressing one breast,
the roundness of a fruit shake us again.

And there are days when we're so grim, so grim,
as in the lugubrious night cry of pine:
the soul cries then under the pain of the world
and perhaps even God can console us.

****But there are also O Earth! one day ... one day ... one day ...
they weighed anchor, never to return:
a day when winds inevitable run
a day when nobody can hold us!

Author: Porfirio Barba-Jacob