Rest

Rest


Give me your hand
And I will take you to the fields set to music for
harvests song
Let's arrive before the birds dispute us
the fruits,
Before the insects feed on the
half opened leaves.
Give me your hand
And I will take you to enjoy the happiness of the
thanked ground,
I will give you for bed the friendly land
And I will rest your aged head
In the silent grass of the fields.
I will ask nothing,
You will hear only the singing adolescent waters
And the words of my glance on your beloved face.