On the border of joyous harvesters water trembles,
and offers for the order of the contented lip
a sweet course born of pregnant mornings,
and agrarian transparency, sweetly lit.
The crowned wheat of tightened density
retains the overflowing color on which they order
—neighbor to the flesh—to satiate itself in spring.
The cattle decrease tenderly in the dark
where the ground expands its shadowy current,
and the bee completes its snow journey,
and hides its manure among timid jaspers.
And you, Beloved,
who set the plow on a fixed course
to encircle the afternoon and hasten the rose,
Where is your chest abounding with roots,
where is the naked temple without rest or end?
Over the gentle pastures, innocent shepherds
prepare the grape which houses the wine,
and gather the climate in which its smell grows
and imparts handfuls of joy to the tongue.
Thus summer attends to its nascent beauty
and releases its birds onto the solitary wind.
Thus the mother-of-pearl scatters its stillness
and delight and its wild color renews and provides.
Oh earthly gifts,
Oh soft nourishment;
Only to exhaust the seed-time with your chest,
Only to flow into joy and to stay
Oh skin, Oh overflowing stammering ashes!