Res No És Mesquí

Nothing is mean, nor is any hour bitter, nor is the fortune of the night dark. And the dew is clear when the sun rises and shines and takes delight in the bath: for it mirrors the bed of all things made. Nothing is mean, and all rich like wine and the blushing cheek. And the wave of the sea always laughs, Winter's Spring - Summer's Spring. And everything is Spring: and every leaf, eternally green. Nothing is mean, because the days do not pass; and death does not come, even if you have asked for it. And if you have asked for it, a veil disguises it from you because to be born again you need to die. And we are never a cry but a delicate smile that disperses like orange blossoms. Nothing is mean, because the song sings in every bit of thing. -Today, tomorrow, and yesterday a rose will unfold: and the youngest virgin will have milk in her breast.