The heavy slow steps of Old Winter
Are sounding across the Great North.
To my yard, in the South of North,
Some echoes arrive and solve in the sea breeze.
While I bow to the naked trees
And smile to the wild flowers
The birds keep singing Spring songs
Indifferent to the cold, they shine and sound.
On his grey journey, Old Winter stops for a moment,
Peers into my yard with angry curiosity;
With thunder voice and fire in his eyes
He demands answers and explanations.
«Who dares to disturb my cold silence?
Who dares to smile to the flowers?
Who dares to dance with the wind?
Who dares to paint the sky with rainbows?
Who dares to walk delighted in the rain?
Who dares to see the blue sky behind my thick grey cloak?
Who dares to look me in the eyes without a barb of fear?
Who dares to smile at my fury and bitterness?
Who dares to touch my untouchable existence?»
Hearing no answer, he curves his huge body
Over my home, through my fragile doors and windows
He looks me in the eyes and all around
Sweeping the floor with his long frozen beard
I shiver for a second, looking behind his rage
Trying to find a chord of peace and warmness
In his chaotic turbulent frozen mind
Then I tell him what he doesn’t want to hear,
My sincere ignorance, my insignificant knowledge.
«I know the answer to some of your questions
Though I don’t know the answer
To the most of my questions
Hear if you want to know the little I know»
But before I was able to start,
He began his bitter lament:
«Why does the chant of the birds
Sound to me like swords cutting ice,
Taste like broken crystal in my tongue,
Weigh like huge mountains on my shoulders,
Stain my deep skin with drops of uncertainty?
I’m not welcome anywhere,
They just stand me because they can’t avoid me.
Even in the realm of Imagination,
I’m always the dark side
The solitary inhabitant of a black castle
The poisonous fruit in the forest
The hunger that will kill the innocent
The heavy rock falling from the high
The feet that blindly smash what shines
The hands that never learned to hold
The arms that forgot how to embrace…
But beyond all my wounds,
Some wide opened, some dry scars,
What hurts more the heart,
The one they say I haven’t,
Is that song, the only one
The birds keep singing wherever I go…»
THE BIRDS SONG I
The thunder of heavy steps shakes
The colourless gloom of the deepest cave.
The snake hides while the bear sleeps,
No creature in sight, only wind and dust,
Hearing the heavy steps of the Cold Wanderer.
Wind windy Winter
Wind windy Cold
Wind windy Dust
Wind windy Spikes
Follow your deserted crooked road
We’ll follow our sky open trail
In our wings the voice of life
Won’t stop
In our wings the taste of freedom
Will remain
In our wings the strength of the sun
Will shine
In our wings the water of light
Will flow
Cold cold Winter, don´t cross in our way
But if you do, hurry your steps
Because this land doesn’t belong to you.
The bitter saliva drips like mud
From the huge hollow mouth,
Swallows the tired working walkers
Tiny and fragile they take the trap for a shelter
And the dust in the wind prints on the ground
Crying signs of pain, loss and despair.
Wind windy Winter
Wind windy Cold
Wind windy Dust
Wind windy Spikes
Cold cold Winter, don´t cross in our way
But if you do, pass and leave fast
Because this land doesn’t belong to you.
***************************************************
«What a strange song!
I never heard a bird
Singing such bitter cold words.
I hear the birds singing all the year
But I never heard that song.
I think you need to rest and warm your soul.
There’s a place for you here by the fireplace.
Now I’ll tell you my own story
And I’ll answer to your doubts and questions.
If you’ll stay for a while,
I’ll tell you about the birds’ songs I hear
Especially one that they sing in my garden
Every day of the year
Today they already sang it
But they will return tomorrow.
Here´s the song that I hear every day
It’s a very old one.»
THE BIRDS SONG II
(Old Song)
Over the sea and over the forest
The call of life leads the way
To the sweet land of Summer.
On the way we cross
The benevolent fields of Spring
We breathe the primitive renewed scent
We drink in the murmuring fountains
We persist and linger above the fog
Welcoming the South breeze.
Gentle, gentle is the call of life, of beauty, of reality
Gentle, gentle are the hands of Spring
Seeding and planting the ground of our journey.
In time we fly with warm wings
Watching the clouds opening windows to the sun
Below, the mountains uncover the rocks
Emerging living beings in static wonder
Gentle, gentle is the call of life, of beauty, of reality
Gentle, gentle are the hands of Spring
Seeding and planting the ground of our journey.
In life we follow the spell of beauty
Beholding and counting the growing flowers
Today they are petals, tomorrow they’ll have wings
And the sky will be the blue prairie
Treasured in the map of our hearts.
Gentle, gentle is the call of life, of beauty, of reality
Gentle, gentle are the hands of Spring
Seeding and planting the ground of our journey.
In dream we walk with feet of giants
A kind blow of wind and the mountain is crossed
A sparkle of the rainbow and the new life is born
Three dew drops, nine grains of rye and the meal is complete
A single truthful word and the story becomes endless
Gentle, gentle is the call of life, of beauty, of reality
Gentle, gentle are the hands of Spring
Seeding and planting the ground of our journey.
***************************************************************
«That is a very strange song to me
I never heard it anywhere I go
It seems an inspiring song
But it doesn’t speak about me…»
«In this song you are the hidden face
In the magic circle of seasons!
In your bosom they dream
In the other seasons they live
The dreams born in your time.
So, you see, Old Winter,
You are also an inspiration,
A silent line in a warm song.
Leave your bitterness behind,
Hear the wonders born within you,
Open your arms wide
And anticipate the embrace of Spring.
Outside in the garden, her soft petal-arms
Are already working with persistent dedication…»
And while the fireplace fills the room with light and warmth
Old Winter falls asleep, finally free from his icy burden…
São Ludovino, 3/1/2016 – 7/1/2016
A line in a song I, photography by São Ludovino.
Winter garden, photography by São Ludovino.
In the garden, photography by São Ludovino.
Along the trail, photography by São Ludovino.
Warm home I, photography by São Ludovino.
Sunny Winter II, photography by São Ludovino.
Almost Winter II, photography by São Ludovino.
Another kind of Winter IV, photography by São Ludovino.
At the window, photography by São Ludovino.
Crossing Winter I, photography by São Ludovino.
Between Fall and Winter I, photography by São Ludovino.
Between Fall and Winter II, photography by São Ludovino.
Friendly wild I, photography by São Ludovino.
Bridge to Spring, photography by São Ludovino.
Colour collector I, photography by São Ludovino.
Solved in the light, photography by São Ludovino.
Two lines in a song I, photography by São Ludovino.
Two lines in a song II, photography by São Ludovino.
Invisible companions II, photography by São Ludovino.
Dance of the birds I, photography by São Ludovino.
Dance of the birds II, photography by São Ludovino.
Little bird, photography by São Ludovino.
Breathing life II, photography by São Ludovino.
Gardener of light I, photography by São Ludovino.
Gardener of light II, photography by São Ludovino.
Gardener of light III, photography by São Ludovino.
Gardener of light IV, photography by São Ludovino.
Growing trees I, photography by São Ludovino.
Growing trees III, photography by São Ludovino.
Growing trees IX, photography by São Ludovino.
Growing trees V, photography by São Ludovino.
Growing trees VII, photography by São Ludovino.
Growing trees VIII, photography by São Ludovino.
Large window I, photography by São Ludovino.
Large window II, photography by São Ludovino.
Life growing, photography by São Ludovino.
Linking the trees II, photography by São Ludovino.
Just like Summer, photography by São Ludovino.
Magic carpet I, photography by São Ludovino.
Fall in Spring, photography by São Ludovino.
Spring & Fall under my feet III, photography by São Ludovino.
Blooming Winter I, photography by São Ludovino.
Pieces of sky on the ground, photography by São Ludovino.
Meeting on the ground, photography by São Ludovino.
Snow White II, photography by São Ludovino.
Natural work I, photography by São Ludovino.
Natural work IV, photography by São Ludovino.
Old Winter smiling to the sun, photography by São Ludovino.
Pages in a book I, photography by São Ludovino.
Pages in a book II, photography by São Ludovino.
Sunny pages, photography by São Ludovino.
Traveling mountains, photography by São Ludovino.
The long beard of Winter, photography by São Ludovino.
Warming the Winter I, photography by São Ludovino.
Warming the Winter III, photography by São Ludovino.
Winter companions I, photography by São Ludovino.
Winter blue sky I, photography by São Ludovino.
Winter in the Garden of Light I, photography by São Ludovino.
Winter in the Garden of Light II, photography by São Ludovino.
Light as a feather II, photography by São Ludovino.
Night-sun windmill, photography by São Ludovino.
Water of life IX, photography by São Ludovino.
Leaving a trail VI, photography by São Ludovino.
Leaving a trail VII, photography by São Ludovino.
