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By daylight, lime – trees give shade. By night, lime – trees give light.
Like the clouds that by daylight give shade and by night brighten the sky. By
daylight you’re unable to read what it is written on the lime – trees bracts,
those long golden leaves that wings the fruits. During the period of the summer
solstice the golden bracts of the lime – trees sparkle in the sun like votive
gold - leaves which bear inscriptions not to be read by human eyes. At sunset a
merciful cloud, just one, veils the sun: then you approach those long golden
leaves that look like golden wings, you look at them against the light, you try
to decipher the message of their venation. But you can’t, the sun hinders you
and the help of the cloud is not enough powerful. And yet when you still were
into your mother’s womb you knew what that message was: it was a tale, your
tale. During the period of the summer solstice your mother used to look at the
lime – trees at sunset and you knew the message carried by their golden wings,
you knew your tale. By seeing the light you’ve forgotten it. Now you know that
you need to recall that tale, now you know that to you that tale is as precious
as gold. But the summer solstice’s sun blinds your eyes: you can’t see, you
can’t know. And at sunset you force yourself to go back home. While you’re going
away from the lime – trees the fallen fruits creak under your feet like broken
bits of an empty money – box. While you’re going away from the lime – trees the
fallen bracts sparkle like gold – leaves of a treasure which someone has just
disinterred by chance and being unable to believe his eyes has at once thrown
again into the mud. At night you can’t sleep and you look at the waning moon
which reminds you that what it seems to draw to an end is actually ready to
start over again. Now it’s dark, now you have to go under the lime – trees. Do
not be afraid, you will find them: at night lime – trees give light. At night
lime – trees leaves throb like the heart of the sleepless ones, at night lime –
trees fruits swing like the will of those ones unable to decide if it is better
hope or fear the sunrise. At night lime – trees golden bracts sparkle like eyes
that see in the dark: they will recognize you and they will tell you a tale. The
tale that you knew before your birth, that tale which is to you as precious as
gold: your tale. |
