MIDNIGHT

…while night and moon fly over the land and sea,
over the roads, the cemeteries, over nearby mountains
and the blazing city,
I am weeping;

…after looking and looking—my eyes ravaged against the sky—
after a while sharing death with those who weep,
with those who hold life like an autumn breath before the window,
after a while, I say, comparatively I understand my unfounded weeping,
the magnitude and depth of my strength and gods upon my sorrowful bones;

…because the night is, nevertheless, beautiful as a tamarind in bloom,
and enthusiastic and serene as a sailboat entering all the open ports
of my breath;

…I did not know that my eyes held so many lunar patches
nor so many swallows hiding the sun; I didn't know that this night would come
haunting me from all time, not only with desolation,
but with the ineffable wine of this tense and true joy;

…the city lights flicker and touch me,
the sea and time touch me, this instant touches me,
which my eyes seize and hold;

…as if nothing were happening in the heart of the night;

as if wounded and broken bones like my own weren't trembling within it.

***
Antonio Justel/Orion of Panthoseas
https://oriondepanthoseas.com
[Available: “All Fires” - Casa del Libro and Amazon: https://amzn.eu/d/1vWd028]
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