E.P. Robles | Poetry

In youth’s soft hours, the child commands the sage,
Awakening wishes deep within my breast,
To bind my days with nature’s gentle page,
In bonds of piety, supremely blessed.

A time when meadows, groves, and streams so clear,
Each common sight, in sacred light arrayed,
Celestial visions in a golden sphere,
Their glory fresh, their freshness never fade.

Yet now, the world has lost its former grace,
No matter where I turn, by day or night,
The things I saw, I can no longer trace,
Rainbows fade, and roses lose their light.

The moon surveys the bare and silent moor,
Stars shimmer on the waters in the night,
The sun’s birth is a dazzling, blissful tour,
Yet, still, I mourn a vanished, lost delight.

While birds sing songs of joy with voices clear,
And lambs, to tambour’s beat, dance on the ground,
My heart alone is drowned in sorrow’s cheer,
Yet timely words provide a healing sound.

Waterfalls trumpet loudly all around,
No sorrow taints this joyful, blissful season,
Echoes resound from peaks with glory crowned,
Winds bring me dreams with nature’s rhyme and reason.

The earth adorned with joy and boundless mirth,
Land, sea, and beast unite in festive cheer,
Oh, child of joy, let laughter fill the earth,
Shout round me, shepherd-boy, draw closely near.

Blessed creatures, I have heard your jubilant call,
The heavens join your jubilee so grand,
Your laughter echoes through the vast, grand hall,
Your blissful feast, I feel, I understand.

Oh, what a day! Should I, while all is bright,
Remain in sullen silence and despair,
This May-morn, when pure children’s pure delight
Fills every vale with scents so rich and rare?

I hear, I hear, with joy I hear the sound,
‘Midst beauty, one sad truth I still retain,
A single tree, a field, a scene renowned,
All whisper tales of what no more sustains.

Where has the visionary gleam now fled?
The glory, where? The dream that once was real?
Our birth is but a sleep, a foggy thread,
The soul that rises, distant stars reveal.

Not in complete oblivion do we come,
But cloaked in glory from our home above,
Heaven surrounds us in our early sum,
In childhood’s dawn, we feel its boundless love.

The prison-house its shadow soon will cast,
Upon the growing boy, its veil will fall,
Yet, in his joy, he’ll see the light steadfast,
He’ll find it in his heart, he’ll hear its call.

The youth, as eastward he must daily roam,
Nature’s priest, his vision pure and bright,
Guided by visions toward his heavenly home,
Yet then, the light fades into common light.

Earth offers pleasures, sweet in her own way,
Yearnings and thoughts, a mother’s gentle mind,
The nurse attempts, with efforts to convey,
Forget the glories that he left behind.

Behold the child, in blissful innocence,
A darling of six years, in tiny frame,
Surrounded by his mother’s fond presence,
With light from his dear father’s eyes, the same.

At his small feet, a chart, a plan, he lays,
A fragment from his dream of life ahead,
Shaped by his hands, in newly learned ways,
A wedding or a funeral, life’s thread.

This now consumes his heart, his soul, his song,
His tongue will weave through love, through business, strife,
Yet soon, this play will not endure for long,
A new role waits, bringing him joy and life.

A little actor, with a humorous stage,
He’ll fill his world with life in endless play,
Imitating all, from youth to feeble age,
A ceaseless mimicry in life’s array.

Thou, outward semblance, hiding vast within,
Thy soul’s immensity, none comprehend,
Thou seer, thy sight sees worlds beyond our ken,
Forever haunted by the eternal mind.

Mighty prophet, on whom truths repose,
The truths we seek throughout our fleeting days,
In darkness lost, where graves their secrets close,
Thou, over whom, Immortality sways.

A presence never to be cast away,
A child, yet glorious in your boundless might,
Why do you provoke the yoke’s sure display,
Struggling blindly ‘gainst your blessed delight?

Soon, earthly cares will weigh upon your soul,
Custom will press on you with icy hand,
Frosty and deep, the burden takes control,
Heavy as life, it claims you, take a stand.

Oh, joy! In embers, something yet survives,
Nature remembers what was fleeting, fast,
The thought of years gone by within me thrives,
Eternal blessings in their shadow cast.

Not for the worthy blessings do I sing,
Not for delight, or liberty’s pure creed,
In childhood’s heart, where hopes take flight on wing,
In new-fledged dreams, where innocence takes heed.

Not for these do I sing my thanks and praise,
But for the questions stubborn, unrelenting,
For senses and things lost in unseen ways,
For misgivings, for vanishing, tormenting.

For first affections, memories that fade,
A master-light that guides us through our days,
Upholds us, nurtures, never to degrade,
A truth that never dies, in countless ways.

In moments calm, though far from shores we be,
Our souls behold the sea that gave us birth,
In an instant, we travel there to see,
Children at play along the sandy earth.

Sing, birds, sing on, with your melodious song,
And let the lambs, to tambour’s beat, cavort,
In thought, we join your throng, joyous and strong,
Feel May’s delight in every beating heart.

Though radiant splendor now eludes my sight,
Though grass no longer gleams, nor flowers bloom,
We’ll grieve no more, for strength is found in night,
In what remains, we’ll find our inner room.

In primal sympathy, we find our peace,
A source that lights our days, both near and far,
In soothing thoughts that human suffering cease,
In faith that gazes through death’s silent bar.

And, oh, you fountains, meadows, hills, and groves,
Foretell no severance of our heartfelt ties,
Yet, in my heart, I feel your potent moves,
One joy I’ve given up, beneath your skies.

I love the brooks that ripple down their way,
Even more than when I danced along their side,
The innocent dawn of a brand-new day,
Is still as lovely, in its quiet glide.

The clouds that gather ’round the setting sun,
Take on a solemn hue from watching eyes,
That guard man’s fate until his day is done,
A different race, another victor lies.

Thanks to the human heart, our guiding light,
For tenderness, for joy, for all our fears,
To me, the meanest flower holds such might,
Its thoughts can drown in depths of silent tears.

:: 11.07.2023 ::