SONG OF THE FRANCISCAN CANTICLES Comments

The Franciscan song has already sung
the brotherhood between me and chaos,
for its singing of ordered harmony
preceded my song in which Nature
is the child of disorder and diversity.
I worshiped the God of lambs and fields,
of flower-lined paths, of the teeming sea,
and where there were signs of accord
and the presence of the four seasons
ruled by the melodious spheres,
I saw the echoes of the various radiations.
My ear hears in the Universe
the galaxies' broken phrases.
The whispers from thickets of wild
roses used to rise up to Him,
while on the earth's paths
his way sang in Everything.
Here I sing the loss of the spirit
of St. Francis praising the full day
and the gain of daily uncertainty
and the anguish that soothes us
as if we didn't even deserve to keep
the Letter according to the spirit.

And the wagtails sing and nest
along the trodden roads of old
where once they saw the troubadour
travel and sing in Time
although it seemed like Space.
I imitate the verses in praise of place,
for I know that space is unknown
and time has the measure of life.
It was in time that the three kingdoms
of living Nature reached me,
and the stone sings its stony sound
when it cracks and rolls and shatters.
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