A gracious spring waiting

Maybe it is this crescent moon,
or some memory of once better times,
but I wonder why I have been overfilled tonight
with such a fresh tenderness.
A gentle joy that hurts,
like sweet sadness, it tastes bright and silent.

And God only knows
how much I miss you in this quiet darkness,
longing for our youth gone by.

The almond trees are in bloom.
Who will breathe in their fragrance?
Do no birds sing on February nights?
So let my voice cry out with the old song:

“By the clear and the winding streams

in the Valley of Golinons,

where my love and I have been,

where we'll wander nevermore.

CHORUS
But if time was a thing Man could buy,

all the money that I have in store,

I would give for one day by her side,

in the Valley of Golinons”

(Silly Wizard, The Valley of Strathmore)

O Lord, the Almighty, nevertheless,
not mine, but Thy love be done!

NOTE 1:

This writing was composed a year ago in a clear and cold night while I was listening to the song of The Valley of Strathmore, seated alone at my car, parked somewhere in the neighbourhood of San Blas in Madrid (where I lived). I wrote it in English. I hadn’t had then the opportunity to have it checked and I preferred to not have it published on my blog at that time. A whole year went by, the thing matured. I have been caught again by another crescent moon and somebody helped me with my “English” poetry (let me send you my appreciation : thank you Miss Anderson!).

NOTE 2:

For those of you who have not yet been in the Valley of Golinons (el meu mundanal paradís, my earthly paradise in Catalan), I promise that I will drop you a line about it, someday.