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RETURN, MY SON

 

You are a branch torn from my trunk
by the enchanted whirlwind of a foreign tree,
you still bear green leaves and a longing
upon your tender stem, now broken.

 

My bark aches, split open at last,
my sap flows thickly through your hollow;
my wound will not heal without your breath,
and I shall die of love if I have lost you.

 

You fly with tender, chaste, new shoots,
you go to explore the line of twilight;
I long to reach you with my loving embrace
and bring you back to root in your own soil.

 

You will discover fire in your journey
and lustful flames will consume you;
you will yearn for the fresh and limpid water
once offered by the current of the old river.

 

You will grow cold, defeated by sorrow
upon a stony land thirsty for your name,
and you will seek gardens, mighty oaks,
the dew of ancestral springs.

 

You will hear the birdsong,
you will remember enchanting lullabies
that rocked illuminated dreams
within the ancient and leafy tree.

 

Your true landscape is the forest of your lineage,
with a spring of heavenly vocation;
turn away from a different world
that makes you equal to dry and sorrowful timber.

Your flower nurtures the true fruit
through the code imprinted in your seed;
keep it innocent, upright, pure,
do not let the grace of its petals wither.

 

And if one day you wish to return
to the original land of the forest,
you will find your mark upon my bark,
and my wood in the shape of a cross, and your inheritance.

 

In our treetop the wind howls and mourns,
evoking your image high above;
it will cradle you if you return to your fields,
they have stood empty since you left.

 

Come and take your place beneath the sun;
you shall be the future seed of life,
and to the rhythm of your harmonious melody
the banquets of love shall arise.

 

Emma-Margarita R. A.-Valdés

Traductora: Vekas Rodica

 

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