|From the book The Wild Rose|
|Legends and Fantasies|
(1976 - 1978)
|When huge fate roars|
like the wind, tempting the traveller,
pulling at his clothes,
and you envy your soul more than another᾽s –
an old monk asks:
“Tell me who am I like?”
and he sees a living mirror,
winged and a guardian,
murmuring and descending on him,
and it reflects the same darkness
that he fought against. But in it,
in the clairvoyant breathing beyond the glass,
the soul is like a coloured cloud,
surrounded by the broad day.
Thus somebody᾽s living soul
will not stand the light of day,
and recovering grief with grief,
and shielding word with word,
will gather up the darkness of travel
around it, and go through in it.
And in the soul the monk᾽s fire burns.
And the light sounds like a parable.