OF THE FOREST OF YOUR JOY
M. García García-Pérez

Because of you I returned to learn the name of the things.
Because of you I returned to learn the necessary thing.
Bread, house, destiny, way.
Of you I returned to learn. Of the forest
of your joy. Of hands
of your calm mystery.

It was left much to do:
to fix the orchard,
to speak with the dogs,
to take a walk by the borders of the autumn.
It was left much to do.
It was left much.

Because of you I returned to learn the necessary thing.
To do without the useless thing,
that nothing is precarious.
Of the brightness of your eyes
to enjoy the slow time.
And four useful things
of your certain gesture.
And many things more of you I learned.
And it was left much to do.

To throw the ballast, of which it is the existence.
Of the traffic, the weight of Mondays.
Gray, sky, bonfire, way.
Of bad films.
To rob the time to minute-hand,
that the clocks kill the time.

It was left much to do:
to get the dreams in
in the cold nights
like when it does not have fish I get in the empty meshes.
It was left much to do.
It was left much.

I learned to add logical and the uncertain thing.
To lay the table.
I learned to tolerate the necessary presence
of the spiders.
I learned to support only the bearable thing.
And it was left much to do,
to reject the boredom, to fight against it.
And it was left much to do.

To clean of bad grass the meadow,
to pull up the gratting and walls.
To make piles: dogs with cats.
To make piles: suns and stars.
To erase the flight signals
so that the birds are owners of the sky.