Day dawns without debts,
without doubts,
and later
the day changes,
the wheel turns,
the fire is transfigured.
Nothing is left
of what dawned,
the earth consumed itself
grape by grape,
the heart was left without blood,
spring was left without leaves.
Why did all that happen this very day?
Why was it mistaken in its bells?
Or does everything always have to be so?
How to twist, unravel
the thread, keep on pushing
the sun back to
the shadow.
Send back the light until the night
grows big again with day.
May this day be our child,
endless discovery,
aura of time recovered,
conquest of debt and doubt,
so that our life
may simply be
a pure morning substance,
a clear current.
