Songs of June*

"Heavy in the air,
And the Sun,
She laughs at prataiole
And the blondes, niche
And makes everything gold"
~Marino Moretti,

Whence the farmer goes to the fields of wheat,
And whence the Sun comes down upon his head,
As if to greet his toils and endless works,
There surely blows the breeze sweet, of June,
Making him perhaps sing a tune of love
For his fields, where he has , for ages, been toiling
Mixing with the soil, his sweat and blood,
There , perhaps , a form of Art, also have been Borne
By the beauty of the landscape golden
Of a wheatfield, spread for miles,
Waving , tossing gently at the blowing breeze of June,

There how passion for creation
Comes to a bloom, upon earth,
Turned fertile by ploughing
Turned beautiful by genesis of fruits,

And June is what I pray to see
As a wide canvas , perhaps, from land to the sea of a sky, and back to the possibility
From which germination of life starts,
So lively, as a colored scape before our eyes
By tranquil and serene sense blessed.

(*Note: based loosely upon a painting by Vincent Van Gogh, 1889 and also inspired by the poem as quoted at the beginning of this poem/scribbling , titled "Songs of June", by Marino Moretti; )

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