My Friend!

Dew has settled on the knee of the earth. From the heart of the ground comes the smell of damp soil. The river is asleep. A fire shines: red and small in the thicket: with a smile — it seems — upon today. I wander through my farmland, today. The ears of wheat, with my passing breeze, sway nod their heads in greeting. Hello! Field of remembrance! I take the ears of wheat in my hand I press my trembling lips to each of them: in the wheatfield in the place where you sowed, grain by grain, your sweet wheat. You did not fling the seed onto the ground of the past you sowed: grain by grain, the wheatfield in the place of the future: my love! my today. I gaze at the horizon: it has turned purple purple! Rippling! As if you were beside me. I felt the warmth of your hand on my shoulder. As if you had never gone, never. I see you more alive than any sunrise, eternal. Forever, for all time: the smell of the soil of our embrace comes. I have knelt, on this soil. Grain by grain, I sow your sweet wheat in the womb of the earth. I gaze: at the place of our tomorrow's ears of wheat...