Your Spring

I wandered on an earth that wandered with me and was not afraid of the order to halt that was issued, moment by moment, from the depth of the grave. I wandered, I roamed, century after century, and I arrived at your spring: a generous gushing far from the nature of the dropper that, with empty intervals, let fall a drop on my dry tongue tainted with fear. I wandered on an earth that wandered with me and I arrived at you: — flowing over my face, the clear kisses of your waves. — Who seeks, finds! I take up your wave in the cup of my hand. I drink, I pour it on my dusty face. They dance on my neck the clear strands of your diamond; clear and free free free like the air of dawn free from the bonds of darkness kissing the throat of the bird without fear... Who seeks, finds! Your spring sings in my ear with the murmur of pure water. I roll — now and always — naked thirsty in your embrace...