Orange brick
in evening sun
dull and warm
and I felt with my fingers
as I passed,
il silenzio permette
lo spazio per Dio parli
the Italian monk said
placing two fingers
to his lips,
I hoed between the plants
in the abbey garden
sunlight upon me
like God's blessing,
smelt incense
with body sweat
and baked loaves
as I stood
in the choir stalls
before Vespers,
la oración es
un acto de amor
lasalabras no son
necesarias
St Teresa said
so I read,
I picked up
a handful of earth
and held it
in my palm
and crumbled it
between finger and thumb
like some
ancient conqueror
after battle,
the tall thin monk
tolled the big bell
pulling on the rope
with ease
then releasing it
and grabbing again
pulled,
silenzio e spazio
letting God in
where once
was noise and muddle,
prayer is love
no words needed
a saint said,
amour et prière
Dom Placid said to me
as we walked
in the cloister
before Terce,
interno la pace
as well as outer peace
the monk told me
harder to obtain
too much going on
within,
interius silentium
I stood on the seashore
and watched
the waves come in
trying to empty of self
but the sea could not
drive me from me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem