Do Not Tremble

Do not tremble, do not tremble little flower, I won’t pick you from this garden. You are now just a blossom, I am an addicted wanderer Ahead I see a path of stones beneath a crimson horizon, behind a tree with many branches, One gold fruit that never wanes. I found ashes in a wooden plate that tasted like the elysian nectar. I rejoiced even when a breeze scattered together fortune and ill fate. I have the sovereignty of the old craft, When flying I outrun the clouds clutching them with my bare hands, building castles without any heft. I pick now my walking stick and I greet you with my old hat. The next reunion will be among strangers and this spring with be just an old trick.