A rose. Behind it nothing,
but the acceptance
of its real beauty.
Wonderful is Nature
with her constance
and rules of life,
wonderful and cruel:
the rose is protected by thorns,
yet it will wither soon or later
(as you, my love, are withering).
And in the immense universe
the earth and the rose
are a single thing,
whereas your eyes
-tiny beings’s eyes- can discern
shapes and colours
in littleness…
We, deformed, thorny plants,
who yet know the deep sorrows
of existence.
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Sono pagine bellissime: ci torno sempre volentieri.
peter
E’ un onore e un piacere scoprirti tra queste pagine, spero mi verrai a fare visita più spesso ;)) see you my friend!!