Tecelã de Sonhos - Poesia D'água

The Evening Maiden

night came as a dense dripping shadow,
like rain pouring but with darkness.
rising calmly at midwest
melting away the sun,
to its peaceful rest.

the slow evening grew immense
hovering over sky and land,
its entrance came along the moon
who shone and bloomed,
along the nightly flowers
whose petals grew wider,
with the touch of the lingering light
slipping down from the pallid moon.

the muse wide awake the lyre plays
and on sleeping lands flutters as sweet dreams,
running barefoot on the grass that melts and sticks.
to night evermore she blows kisses
with lips as red as fresh cherries
and eyes as sublime as the cupid's golden wings.

dawn's eve comes
with sweet mellow sun - blessed child of apollo,
the birds to him dedicate chants.

the night fragrant and sudden as a fawn
stumbles upon a hidden woodland
and half-asleep she falls,
on the lap of her darling maiden.

[slumber follows her
as phantoms old hills may hunt
and he will not stop
until dear night to dreams may fall]

she wept worse than a child
on her lap she kept her head,
sleepy as the jasmins - she stayed on the grass,
no words were spoken,
the maiden knew better, all night needed was a gentle soul;
a beggar to her love,
and a kiss upon the brow.

brown-eyed and gentle as a wisp of silk,
the hem of the muse's skirt was marked
with the mud and flowers of the land's fertile soil.
as symbols of lost religions and sanctified men
yet all to delicate - for beauty on dirt things remain.

[weaved carefully with fableness and mist.

between long strings of linen
you may also find dreams
speckled and made raw
with the sewing needle's tip]

veiled as a weeping widow
night fell to the charms of rest
sleep came within a whirling wind
and on the muse's tender lap
night fell asleep, soothed by the wings of destiny.

[the trees sway, the sky cries
the flowers fleet and stay,
while dear maiden awake remains.
slumber softly stepped over the light
for night with him went away]

the evening maiden
cried over night's descent way
to sleepfulness or languor slumber
for night's path to dreams conquer - is harsh,
as an old seamstress's hand
sewing all day long, every creatures' destiny
with thin-made strings.

light spilled over the sky - dawn rose again
as a beggar to the sun i did not look -
a shadow i became
i stayed in darkened rooms
until by the arms of evening,
i could be hold again.