COPPER AFTERNOON

… if this afternoon is copper
and bronze, the wind, the grasses, and the cries of the trees,
with unusual fury, the hordes of March hurl their axes at the heart;
on the stone, after tearing the thunder to shreds, the rain pounds and rattles;
…on such an afternoon, the glass rebuked and spurred, a distant ray of light is a friendly face,
a flight, a hope, a glow of infinite faith, of love and knowledge;
…ah, comrades, listen, and do not let fear spread, nor the circular feast of the hours;
all the copper afternoons are not worth the murmur of life nor the slight trembling of a tear;
…in my heart, millions of tears flow before these March axes
built and wielded by me today, and these, what you sense or hear, are their harsh blows.
***
Antonio Justel/Orion de Panthoseas
https://www.oriondepanthoseas.com
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