Wind and Perfumes of the Cap de Creus
I see in the wind a bouquet
on your flowered face and I will breathe in
the scent of the paths you tread.
Tell me the paths you tread
which I know will take me to the sea.
The perfume of the santalum flowers,
of jasmine, of honeysuckle,
cannot fly faster than the wind.
The fragrance of wisdom does
travel much further. To all
points the wise man, the learnèd
man spreads the perfume
of his VIRTUE, of his
efficacy.
But it is impossible to sleep
some summer nights. In through
the open window comes the
fragrance of olive trees.
Tomorrow, at sunrise I shall reap
the wild harvests that will
take me to the Cap de Creus following
the scent of the paths trodden
by my love.
Another day I will climb the
mountain in Peru that
kind and velvety
will invite me to a stroll.
This year will present itself
all green, mossy and generous
like a landscape
in Normandy.
Another effluvium there will make us
see and feel full of the gold
of the broom, the sempervivum
and the gorse.
It is impossible to outdo
nature when she starts to paint,
when she invents her celestial
landscapes we cannot remain insensitive
to the temperamental fascination
of Cadaqués, a landscape that would
not exist without the fragrance, the aroma,
the smells and the colours made to
our measure for our earthly
delight. Each ray of light
is the caress of an immense
lingering look.
Tharrats
