from XCIII

The autumn leaves blow from my hand,
agitante calescemus...
and the wind cools toward autumn.
Lux in diafana,
Creatrix,
oro.
Ursula benedetta,
oro
By the hours of passion,
per dilettevole ore,
guide your successor,
Ysolt, Ydone,
have compassion,
Picarda,
compassion
By the wing'd head,
by the caduceus,
compassion;
By the horns of Isis-Luna,
compassion.
The black panther lies under his rose-tree.
J'ai eu pitie des autres.
Pas assez! Pas assez!
For me nothing. But that the child
walk in peace in her basilica,
The light there almost solid.

holding that energy is near to benevolence.
Au bois dormant,
not yet...! Not yet!
do not awaken.
The trees sleep, and the stags, and the grass;
The boughs sleep unmoving.
"Krr! Krr!" from the starling:
"mai tardi...
"per l'ignoto"
and the soul's job?
"To build light."
"Renew."
Without guides, having nothing but courage
Shall audacity last into fortitude?
You have stirred my mind out of dust.
Flora Castalia, your petals drift thru the air,
the wind is halflighted with pollen
diafana.

 

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