Rites of the Seventh Month

Empyrean drops, Monument of July, The pluvial chapter of life... O July of enfeebled yolk, Dispenser of splendour of sempervirence, God has watered your tongue. Therefore, pour, July, pour The essence of life, The grit of living Unto the bosom of the Seventh month and other Months of parturition. Let us conceive in July, To bear in good season, Sons of courage... Wearing festal garments And adorning our heads with sepia cloths, This shall reinforce hope. In front of the monument of July, (A slouching image of sleepy rain) Right on its wet feet, Shall we bless the earth abundantly. O July, Bearer of thirty-one offspring, Male and female, dew and fog, So full of grains of years, Frenzied and dancing your rites Together with the age of insistent youth! Middle age is when neither youth nor old age Finds you worthy... They sing: The perception of the pristine green Aroma of July Is often the first of the rites Of the seventh month.