Letter for a poet (Carta a un poeta)

Tonight I am celebrating poem number 50.  I consider this the first significant milestone since I engaged in this endeavour, which has become my meditation, my summary of the day, extra-work, but nevertheless, my time with Dad.  I hope anyone who has read at least one of his poems has been touched by his beautiful words.  Another 200 or more poems to go. 

From my Dad’s book Twilight theory (Teoría del crepúsculo).

Letter for a poet (Carta a un poeta)

The logs glow

in the fireplace

tireless,

the ember

remains incandescent

and the flame

has endured the

wind.

There is still room

for the plenitude

of the heart.

The winds that

hit the lilies

without bending them

stopped.

They now sprout and grow,

sob

and blossom

under the burning sun.

There is still room

for the plenitude

of the heart.

The world revolves in

rights and wrongs

over time.

A man still hangs

off the edge

of the cliff

where your verse left him.

There is still room

for the plenitude

of the heart.

Your forgetful

happiness

needs you in the gardens

that survived winter;

you must return immediately

to infect them

with your strength: do not delay,

you have a commitment to the rose.