And what does it matter after all.
Pull you up, room of you.
Lift your eyes, without thinking about anything.
Open them and see
all that light that comes from heaven like music.
Breathe it with desire, that to the bottom
from your gloomy lung break through.
If you receive it without fear and leave
passively enter your being,
your mud will ignite and you will become
yourself in luminous creature.
The light of a single instant, so powerful and sweet,
knows how to fully pay off any account
that a human being has with life,
and there would still be gold left over for those
that incredulous and sad to look at will approach.
This golden glow can do anything:
clears the most far-reaching damage,
and even the little ones
(that are sometimes the most stubborn).
Can't you see? You're already clean. It was easy.
There are no wounds or cloudy scars on your skin.
And you are someone, al fin, innocent, invincible,
a man who is alive as never before
and from which a song flows effortlessly.
ELOY SÁNCHEZ ROSILLO
(This poem appears as ‘unpublished’ en la revista “Cartas de la goleta”.
Tunisia, september 2008).
Photo by Dewang Gupta
Thanks to Fuensanta Muñoz for sending me this beautiful poem.