Alstroemeria In Easter Flowers

Yes, I knew that your hands were

a budding sprout, a lily of silver:

you had something to do with the soil,

with the flowering of the earth,

but when I saw you digging, digging,

pushing pebbles apart and guiding roots

I knew at once, my farming woman,

that not only your hands

but your heart were of earth,

that there you were making your things,

touching moist doorways through which the seeds circulate.

So in this way from one plant

to the other recently planted one,

with your face spotted with a kiss from the clay,

you went and came back flowering,

you went and from your hand

the stem of the alstroemeria raised its solitary elegance,

the jasmine adorned the

mist on your brow with stars of dew and fragrance.

Everything grew from you

penetrating into the earth and becoming green light,

foliage and power you communicated your seeds to it,

my beloved,

red gardening woman:

your hand on familiar terms with the earth

and the bright growing was instantaneous.

Love, thus also your hand of water,

your heart of earth,

gave fertility and strength to my songs

you touch my chest while I sleep

and trees blossom from my dreaming.

I wake up, open my eyes,

and you have inside me stars in the shadows

which will rise and shine in my song.

That's how it is, gardening woman:

our love is earthly:

your mouth is a plant of light,

a corolla,

my heart works among the roots.