Status Updates From Le poesie

September evening; dolefully the dark calls of shepherds sound
Through the twilight village; fire sparks in the smithy.
A black horse rears immense; the maid's hyacinth curls
Snatch at the ardour of its purple nostrils.
Softly the hind's cry grows rigid at the forest's edge And the yellow flowers of autumn
Bend mutely over the lake's blue countenance.
In red flame a tree burned down; bats flutter up with dark faces.

In greenish pools glows putrefaction.
The fish stand still. God's breathing
Softly wakes a lyre's play in vapour.
To lepers the waters beckon healing.

Daedal's spirit floats in blue shadows,
A scent of milk in the hazel branches.
Long you hear the teacher's fiddle,
The scream of rats in the empty courtyards.

SMALL CONCERT

A red that shocks as if you're dreaming -
Through your hands the glow of sunbeams.
You feel your heart insane with pleasure
Preparing softly for a movement.

Yellow fields flow into noontide.
You barely hear the crickets singing,
The reapers' heavy scythe swinging.
Gold woods remain naively quiet.