Jan 10, 2009


That morning - the boy stared
towards the nude body of Psyche
and his eyes lit up - with sparkling desire
since he saw Beauty.

His grandfather Joaquim Pla told him that she's now in the Hades
inebriated by Prosepine fruit - fairy tales
to persuade him not
to fall in love with Beauty.

One morning the boy ran possessed downstairs as if he has discovered
- a fane
in some untrodden region of his mind,
and there, branched thoughts,
new grown with pleasant pain.

But hence his mother
held his head on her bosom,
covered his yearning with delicate advises
to not walk in great matters,
nor in wonderful things above him
and kissed his hair
stroked his wound

He closed his eyes.

Sky where shimmering outside,
with wistful mourning lullabies.


David Flórez said...

Oh my God! I had almost forgotten the way Ashinano concludes his pages. leaving space and time for the reader to digest what he has just read...

Tomás said...

Do not go gentle into the beauty.


Thanks to all. Lately, it has been hard to buy time for these useless things.

I've edited the "Now Listen!" section.

The two external references in this post are:
- Ode to Psyche. John Keats.
- Psalm 131:1. God.

David Flórez said...

This blog must be one of the very few that deserves to be visited by the music... or should I say the soundtrack?