|
|
||||||||
 |
||||||||
| Eva Colombo, A day in exile, fourth chapter: The evening of the thirsty hope |
|
Eva Colombo, A day in exile, fourth chapter: The evening of the thirsty hope The sun at sunset needs the water of the river to be able to slip into the night, to be able to reach the sea where it will rise again. But this thirsty July has dried up the river and the sunset light runs the risk of losing itself and being imprisoned into the cracks of the soil so dangerously similar to the chaotic meanders of the scales of a snake ready to swallow the sun. On the bank of the river my huge dark eyes open wide as an unexpected subterranean passage – way where the sunset light finds salvation slipping over the inexhausted river of my tears. ‘ As the moon and the stars call the order / Inside my tides dance the ebb and sway / The sun in my soul’s sinking lower / While the hope in my hands turns to clay’ ( Led Zeppelin, Hots On for Nowhere ) Now it’s evening, I look at the stars and I see the way which goes to the sea. I look at the moon and I see the tide dancing with the joy of those who have found out light into night. I close my eyes and I see the sunset light sinks into the sea where the sun will rise again and the hope in my hands is like the clay with which it has been moulded a Tanagra statuette, that one who buried kept on dancing for centuries hoping to see the light again. |
|
|