Each moment brings me closer
To the delicate bounties that course
Along the of seams of her spirit,
Slowly lifting the nainsook lace veil
From her trembling visage.
She is new to this season,
But her tender fruit yields
In the stillness of courage.
I will sing her accolades until I lose myself
In the embryo of her lost time.
Art: “Paisaje Mallorquín con Naranjos”
Joaquín Mir Trinxet