The black eagle
One fi ne day, or perhaps one night,
I had fallen asleep near to the sea
when, suddenly, the sky fi lled with light
and a black bird came out of nowhere.
Slowly, beating its wings,
slowly, he went on turning.
Near me, the beating stopped
and, as if fallen from the sky, the bird was still.
Its eyes were the colour of rubies
and its feathers the colour of night.
And on its forehead, amid a thousand rays of soft tone,
the bird, crowned king, had a blue diamond.
It touched my face with its beak,
I found its neck in my hand.
It was then that I knew an
image of the past wanted to come back with me.
Good bird, take me with you to your country
of another time, be my friend.
Like before, in the clear dreams of a child,
we will collect, trembling, stars and more stars.
Like before, in the clear dreams of a child,
like before, upon a white cloud,
like before, you and I will light the sun
and we’ll throw rain onto the island of memory…
The black bird turned its eyes to the sun;
all at once it took fl ight towards the heavens.
Writer/s: Barbara
