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Since the beginning,

every human being who

had blossomed the utterance,

spent countless hours

bridling and containing

the fast horses of the dawn,

in search of it.

It was by the mythical fountain

of the witty smile,

that the eyes of people met

around the fire.

They said that men and women

had visited the place

–that many still do–,

witnessing the timeless beauty

of heaven and earth;

the wondrous sunny valleys

where humans gropingly learn

the skills of gods

and the joys of goddesses.

Ah, that simple, blue space

endorsed by the clear

signs of the stars and seasons!,

where kings, whose silence shone

within their bossom,

 and queens, whose words

became peace itself, finally

got transfigured into poets.

They later explained

the workings of time,

when all this was a simple,

uncomplicated weaving

deep into the masterful cacoon

made of words, and thoughts.

Those deserving the voice

of the owls;

those who merited the flight

of the eagles,

wrote about this love,

not precisely found in books,

or at the twisted,

garbled synapses of the brain.