se nos quedó bajo la hierba
Arlington, May 23, 2006
Walk softly on the grass, Alex lies below it
and sleeps to the murmur of plants and springs
On his face, the magic was in his eyes,
the blue of a dawning day
There was no greater sweetness than on his countenance
nor more candor than in his laughter
His uniform, his flag-draped coffin, his still-adolescent profile
remind us that the fall of just one strong tree
can bring about the end of even the spring
His tomb is ours
in our pained silence it opens to take our hearts with him
and still more earth will be needed for burying…
Maita Arnoldson
Walk softly on the grass, Alex lies below it
and sleeps to the murmur of plants and springs
On his face, the magic was in his eyes,
the blue of a dawning day
There was no greater sweetness than on his countenance
nor more candor than in his laughter
His uniform, his flag-draped coffin, his still-adolescent profile
remind us that the fall of just one strong tree
can bring about the end of even the spring
His tomb is ours
in our pained silence it opens to take our hearts with him
and still more earth will be needed for burying…
Maita Arnoldson
- - - - - -
Arlington, 23 de mayo del 2006
Andemos lentamente
alrededor del césped
Alex se nos quedó bajo la hierba
y oye el rumor de plantas y de fuentes.
En su cara, al recuerdo,
el encanto mayor eran sus ojos
con un azul
del día que comienza.
Recuerden que no había
tanta dulzura como en su mirada
ni más franqueza
que cuando reía.
Su traje de soldado
su ataúd con banderas
su perfil todavía adolescente
nos dicen que con sólo un árbol fuerte
puede morir también la primavera.
Y es que su tumba es nuestra;
ante nuestro silencio con qué dolor se abría
pues nuestros corazones lo acompañan
y habrá que echar más tierra todavía
Maita Arnoldson
Andemos lentamente
alrededor del césped
Alex se nos quedó bajo la hierba
y oye el rumor de plantas y de fuentes.
En su cara, al recuerdo,
el encanto mayor eran sus ojos
con un azul
del día que comienza.
Recuerden que no había
tanta dulzura como en su mirada
ni más franqueza
que cuando reía.
Su traje de soldado
su ataúd con banderas
su perfil todavía adolescente
nos dicen que con sólo un árbol fuerte
puede morir también la primavera.
Y es que su tumba es nuestra;
ante nuestro silencio con qué dolor se abría
pues nuestros corazones lo acompañan
y habrá que echar más tierra todavía
Maita Arnoldson
posted by fulvio at 08:59
3 Comments:
Dear Fulvio,
I hope you and your wife can find strength: I am with you in spirit
This is a poem I have and I want to share it as I read it during my ordeal.
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow;
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain;
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there; I did not die.
Please stay well.
Francesca
To Alex,
We are mourning for you.
We are trying to remember the happy days.
As we treasure your memory, you will continue to live in our hearts and our minds.
We will not forget you or your families.
We will set aside a time for quiet reflection with friends to try to avoid the
pain and loneliness of our losses.
We would like to continue sharing in the community of friends and neighbors who gathered
when our friends and family members died.
This was a true manifestation of how each person affected our lives,
and will continue to do so.
Their memory has become part of us and has changed us forever.
Thank you for letting us share in your lives.
It was a privilege and an honor.
Thank you for all that you did for us.
God bless you, and may you rest in peace.
We hope to meet again in a better world.
Arrivederci.
Today a year has passed.
I can't really imagine how difficult and sad this year has been for my friends.
I can only write to let them know all of us who knew Alex miss his presence in the world.
Bill
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