ROSE OF THE CLOCK

It is the hour of enigmas,
When on a summer evening
A kite descends from the clouds
On a dole of gentle doves.
It is the hour of enigmas!

It is the hour of a dove:
A girl’s gaze tracing
Their flight. A rose-hued evening.
Musical and divine tonal comma.
It is the hour of a dove!

It is the hour of a serpent:
The devil pulls out a white hair,
An apple thuds to the ground,
And shattered is the crystal of the dream.
It is the hour of a serpent!

It is the hour of a hen:
Resplendent is the cemetery with lights,
The pious cross themselves,
And the wind prophesies.
It is the hour of a hen!

It is the hour of a maiden:
Tears, letters and poems,
The air scented with orange blossoms,
Azure is the evening and star-like,
It is the hour of a maiden!

It is the hour of the barn owl:
A sage is deciphering scriptures,
The mirror cracks,
And away goes the old woman, an oil cruet in hand.
It is the hour of the barn owl!

It is the hour of a vixen:
A guitar sounds off in the distance,
Where the street turns round the corner,
And the old woman offers the rose ring to the lass.
It is the hour of a vixen!

It is the hour of a tormented soul:
A witch at a crossroads
Says an accursed prayer,
Asking the dead for their chains.
It is the hour of a tormented soul!

It is the hour of the dawn:
The little owl lies in wait in the pine,
The outlaw prowls on the road,
And Satan in the brothel hides.
It is the hour of the dawn!