UNDER THE OMINOUS SIGN OF THE CHILDREN OF THE FOG
When the wind its fresh waters does not curls,
When the air is folded and the night is in calm,
When the river has quiet its body and its soul,
When we are doubling to see into its lonely margins without haste,If then moon ray (that white fire), passes across the fog,
Among leaves of linden trees, oaks and ash-trees,
As a silvery flame sword, it cleaves the massive water
And it arrives and settles in the eternal rock-bed.If then, we watch with attention and care, we will see in its sleepy bottom
A strange brightness, a fire radiance, an everlasting light,
A brilliance from other worlds that bewitches, that catches us, a glow
That attracts, that hypnotizes, and to all around our being it affects him.Beware then, do you not deceive, do you not remain there,
Because is the gold of the hatred, the desire and the envy,
The terrible one, the damned one, the squandered
Gold of the Rhin, endless, motionless, infinite.Julio Enrique Brugos
06/11/03-27/03/05