'The life of the soul is not knowledge, it is love, since love is the act of the supreme faculty, the will, by which man is formally united to the final end of all his striving – by which man becomes one with God.' (The Seven Storey Mountain)
Knowing,
my eyes can see how wind tears, how
clouds ravage the sky
to shreds…
Can you hear the geese fleeing
shouting dread
as the savage storm crouches?
Are you afraid?
I know
how the sea sometimes
launches boulders;
but the stubborn land
bows and waits
and, swollen, forgives
with torrents of life;
rivers of joy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem