cold and restless night of a wet winter.
soul I suffered a lot throughout the endless day, out of every time and every hope.
Then I offered again to the Lord and now I find myself on a new wonder in the small town that was my strange and indifferent to its unobtrusive beauty.
Thunder in the heart still punctuate the night air, but now I have no fear: the soul is emptied of all suffering and be asleep in this stunned amazement.
Then I arrived in the square. The moon had split in two with a clean cut, diagonal black and white.
The pain ceased and I heard the singing fountain for centuries did not sing well.
was washed out of old marble and dilapidated by time, old blond marble, as if there had been imprisoned in the flatter, a bit of sun in a sunset old.
But the water was new and everlasting, eternal and simple, clear and eternal.
and sang, oh, the night his voice was so high, so full of quiet peace, so sweet! Only in the night when the huge bay is silent hum of men, the fountains can sing well.
The pain had stopped, and this seemed one night, and men could love each other and be brothers again, like in one night, and how not to have never be known.
The fountain sang and was washing my soul tracks of regret and filled, water it.
to be heard at night, however, are silent when the passions of men.
Infinite life waves came crashing to the quiet voice of water in this square. Burning passions, anxieties, despair, remorse and fearful of breaking any juncture was a dissolution of pain, discouragement and regret: they compose a miraculous peace of heart.
not get greedy with this water, my soul, because it contains a lot of light that would hurt you, make you blind till: Tap, however, by this sweet fountain, a little water at a time.
But remember: you must be in humble darkness and silence, as the voice of fountains only on certain nights you clear.
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