THE LAST SPELL
“I have repeated the ancient enchantment,
And the Great Goddess denied herself to my eyes.
I have repeated, in the pauses of the vast wind,
The prayers whose soul is a fruitful being.
The abyss gave me nothing, nor did the sky reveal.
Only the wind returns where I stand, all alone,
And everything sleeps in the confused world.
“Once, my spell bewitched the brambles,
And my invocation lifted from the ground
Concentrated presences from those scattered,
Sleeping in the natural forms of things.
Once, my voice would come alive.
If I called, fairies and elves appeared,
And the leaves of the forest were glistening.
“My wand, with which my will
Spoke to essential existences,
No longer recognizes my reality.
Now, if I trace the circle, there is nothing.
The foreign wind whispers extinct sighs,
And under the moon rising beyond the thickets
I am no more than the woods or the road.
“The gift that once made them love me fails,
I no longer become the form and purpose of life
To those who, seeking them, sought me.
No longer, like a shore, do the arms of the sea engulf me.
Nor do I see myself raised in greeting to the sun,
Or, lost in magical ecstasy,
At the mouth of the deep cave, under the moonlight.
“The sacred infernal powers,
Dormant without gods or fate,
Equal to the substance of things,
Do not hear my voice or their names.
The music of my hymn has broken.
My astral fury is no longer divine,
And my thought-formed body is no longer a god.
“And the distant deities of the dark pit,
Whom I so often evoked, pale,
With the rage of love in turmoil,
Remain uncalled before me now.
As I summoned them without loving,
Now, without love, I possess them, and I know
They will consume my sold being.
“But you, Sun, whose gold I captured,
You, Moon, whose silver I transformed,
If you can no longer grant me that beauty
Which so many times I possessed by will,
At least divide my finished being —
Let my essential self lose itself,
And only my body without me remain as soul and being!
“Let my last magic transform me
Into a statue of myself, in living form!
Let who I am die, but who I became remain,
An anonymous presence to be kissed,
Flesh of my abstract captive love,
Let it be the death of me in which I revive;
And just as I was, being nothing, let me be!”
"Fernando Pessoa"
I am sharing photos of landscapes, moments and experiences. Nature and sea are the most visited themes in my photo collection, but any attention-grabbing aspect can be photographed. Hope you enjoy it...
| Category | #thediarygame |
| Location | Havana - Cuba |