(VF - RR R - LN - TD - SZ - CG - PB - CH J)
poem by Ruth Salles
The wind comes and goes,
party in the forest,
thin and strong like a razor,
turn the leaf, what a rustle.
Tear the branches and tear them down,
spin, spin around,
wounds the earth and whirls,
uncoiled spiral.
Soon the light of the moon
already nests in a black cloud.
In this mist, the winged moon
there it cancels out and it's nothing.
The storm trumpets,
chain, and descend, and dance,
sings and touches the windowpane.
What a storm! What a change!
A whisper rises and sounds,
a zine buzz and zoa:
is the sound that comes out of the house
that wraps a person.
That house almost fell!
And the place was flooding!
But now the picture calms down,
every drop dries up.
Everything spaces and then passes,
all the fuss goes away.
The haze is already spreading,
the star shines in good time.
How the rain soaks the ground!
I settle down, dripping,
complaining, joking,
relaxing… yawning…
***
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