Son of the morning

You are dark - my son of the morning

dark as ruby wine of vintage hue!

You have eyes as black

as hidden turns in silent caves.


My love, you charm me with your dark looks.

You are sweeter than the lilac blooms

making heavy the air of the old country.

There is no music richer than your voice


Even the running of the waterfalls,

even the rippling sounds of tiny streams

or the heavy roar of the rains,

there is nothing to compare with your song


Here on the mountain slopes we wrestle in the sun.

You will soon be as strong as I

O my son of the morning.

Soon you will flatten the grass with my body

and rejoice in my beaded sweat.


Do you remember, O my love, the quiet place

high on the wooded hill, the long view

and the pelicans soaring and backing in the wind ?

Eternity stood still

and we played a wild game

mad upon the grassy slope.


Soon again, my dark love, my darling,

we shall cast shadows like wind hewn rocks

unbedded on the hills.

We shall take water from the earth

sucking like the roots of the cedar

for there is no time to be wasted

and all things have their appointed hour.