The poet stood
on the peak of his lonely island
gazing at the ocean’s infinity from every direction
as the breeze ruffled his hair
and the waves crashed on reefs in slow motion
throwing geysers of foam and water in the air
Everywhere around him
grey needles stood
sharpened by the wind as seasons passed
The poet was as familiar with this rugged landscape
as with his own hands
This was the realm where he was born
where he had always lived
This was his comfort zone
as he clad himself in his coat
of melancholy and fierceness
away from the world
The only thing that sometimes made him feel like
lowering his guard and opening the door of his heart
was this dream he kept on doing
over and over and over
he was looking for a very special book
in an endless library
he was looking for something, someone
who was so, so dear to his heart
And once he had seen his face
shining like a thousand stars
and felt her embrace
He had then sung to the wind a call, a plea
for her to hear and come to him, to his lonely island
but nothing had happened since
and he had stopped dreaming of her altogether
Was it all an illusion of her spirit
or was she truly real
Sometimes in the depth of the night
he had the impression to hear of distant sob
but he kept telling to himself it probably was the moan of the waves
combined with a play of his imagination
And yet, this story remained in his heart
secretly, he cherished its memory
he longed to find his poetess if she existed
and introduce her to his little piece of rock
lost in the middle of the largest sea of the world
Many seasons passed, and nothing happened
the poet continued to hear the sobs he attributed to the sea
the clouds continued to stroll in the sky
without dropping a single drop of rain over his head
everything continued to be of different shades of grey
the sea, the island, the heaven, and his mood too
Until one day the earth quaked
and the poet found a hole in the middle of the island
It was very strange to see a change
in this timeless landscape
and for long he only contemplated the hole
without daring to do anything with it
Then he resolved himself to explore it
he went down into it with the idea to throw in rubble
and close it again, otherwise the ground would catch cold
but in there he discovered he could not close it at all
it was too large, too wide, and it stretched on and on
And so, the poet started walking along the gallery
It was the first time something unexpected
something new, happened in his life
The first time he discovered a new, hidden place of his island
And so he walked and walked in the carved rock
His heart became more and more anguished
as he felt he had walked for so long
he was not anymore under his island
He walked without knowing where he was going
for days, and weeks, and months
until he found another hole and started climbing up
and found himself in the distant world he had always dreamt of
he had read about in books, but never visited
It was very strange to be there
not to speak the language of people
to be looked at as a weird thing
he walked barefoot, without knowing where he was going
until he arrived in front of the door of a building
Without knowing why, his hand had the impulse
to press on a little button of steel
close to something written he could not decipher
It did not look like the drawn characters of the books he read
the writing script of this part of the world was much dryer
And so he pressed the little button, and nothing happened
The morning crept into the afternoon, flowed into the evening
And still nothing happened
The poet waited.
He could not move from there, his legs refused to follow his orders
And so he remained.
Until a person appeared in the distance.
It was her.
Somehow he knew, he felt, it was her he was waiting for.
She walked toward the door of the building
Lit by the glowing ray of the setting sun
Her hair were the colour of a field of wheat at sunset
And her eyes were blazing dark
He looked at her, into her eyes, into her soul.
He did not know her
Did not speak her language
Was a complete stranger.
And yet he knew her, he knew her deeper
than anyone else knew her
And as she came closer
he saw a familiar recognition in her eyes
She seemed to be walking toward the door
And suddenly, she stopped.
She looked at him.
She walked again.
She stopped again
Looked at him again.
She made a motion to take her keys out from her pocket.
But stopped her motion midway, froze.
Looked at him again.
Resumed her motion. Her hand touched her pocket.
Looked at him.
The poet didn’t do any motion
didn’t utter any word
He simply looked deep into her
All his fears, all his apprehensions
had abandoned him
He knew he was in the perfect place
at the perfect time
He knew he was home
He knew who he was, and who she was
She looked at him again
The poet could read, hear
all these silent emotions
that were singing, shouting, crying and laughing
in his ears
And for the first time, the princess saw him move.
He took a step that brought him closer.
The princess was still now.
She didn’t try to look for her keys anymore.
Didn’t try to gaze anywhere else than in the poet’s eyes.
And deep within his soul the poet heard
the same cry, the same sob, he had heard every night
since he had sung to the wind and to the ocean
since he had sent the whisper of his heart to her ears.
And there on her face
her eyes brimmed with tear.
The poet took another step closer.
Their breaths could now brush one another’s face
And he saw the first moontear flowing over her face
that stirred his heard deeper than it ever had
and he started weeping too
The princess and the poet continued to look into one another’s eyes
that were now blurred by an outflow of sadness and grief
and the poet felt all the other emotions too
transformed in tears
and were finally expressed out of their heart
He circled his arms around the princess shoulders
and after the slightest moment of hesitation and shyness
she did the same
and they hugged and they embraced
wetting one another’s cheeks with their tears
and continuing to look into one another’s eyes
with silent marvel
I have found you at last, said the prince in the language of his heart
I have found you at last, repeated the princess in the same language
I have a place to show you, said the prince
caressing the highest parts of the princess’ cheeks
until he made her smile the truest smile he had ever seen
I too have a place to show you, repeated the princess
with the deepest earnestness in her eyes the prince had ever dreamt of
every word coming out her mouth was true, revealed a depth, a nobility
and that brought back tears to his eyes
Are those tears of joy? the princess said, I had never seen any before
And in her eyes the prince sees the reflection of his own tears
and he hugs her even closer
Will you become queen of my island
it is a modest piece of rock, but it has nurtured me and I am fond of it
he asks her expectantly, trustingly
Will you be king of my realm
it is a place of fantasy that does not exist, except in the words my heart sings to yours
You are the poetess I had been looking for all my life
You are the poet I could find nowhere and who haunted all my nights
I cried for you to come and bring my suffering to an end
I heard your lamentations every night and my heart cried for you
They look into one another’s eyes
and they start laughing the truest laugh they have ever laughed
their lips come closer, and they close their eyes, and they kiss.
The night embraces them.