i step in,
i leave my present,
i come into your past.
the light goes along with me,
she follows me.
my shadow precedes me,
she guides me towards your work.
she stretches herself
worried and respectful,
while the sun goes down to west.
i come closer, i listen to the place
with my eyes full of devotion.
you, sculptor, painter, architect,
poet, trubled genius,
great beauty researcher,
you, that were living to work
and were working
for your own pleasure.
you that were taking marble
away from marble to let its light free.
you, creator of giants made
of soft and seductive lines,
strength held in the matter.
i think of you,
while with tallow’s enlightenment
you were working all night long
waiting for the light of the dawn
seeping in the east window.
the beats of the mallet
were resounding loud and lengthy,
while you were studying the shadows
of the beard twisting around
the solemn face
of who met
the eternal light.
you that brought into existence
who shed the light on men,
can you be lighted up?
let my light be the gathering
of your chiseled shapes,
the summons
of all wakefulness rewarded.
natural light and artificial light
create a dialogue,
melting themselves in a spiritual principle
of divine light
laid down on soft turns
and seductive recesses,
wisely painted.
the details you left
to the rasp’s scar
conceal themselves to the lightness
of the light which glorifies polished shapes
under the weight of the lead.
we move towards the future.
while beauty remains,
eternal present.