The Rainbow (III)
Arco Iris (III)
III Perhaps human souls are nothing but rainbows, In the eyes of the Goddess, Each soul a prism that turns light into colors, Every color beautiful, And all of them full of meaning. Perhaps human souls are ephemeral, Like the arc of color that crosses the sky as if to hold heaven, But would an eternal rainbow, Ever be so unique? So miraculous? El arco iris (III) Quizás las almas humanas no son más que un arco iris, A los ojos de la Diosa, Cada alma un prisma que transforma la luz en colores, Cada color bello, Y todos llenos de significado. Quizás las almas humanas son efímeras, Como el arco de color que cruza el cielo como si quisiera sostenerlo, Pero ¿sería acaso tan único Un arco iris eterno? ¿Tan milagroso?
I wonder too, Nacho. A mistery, perhaps a tragedy too ---what if there is no model for man, what if the Goddess on all her beauty is indiferent to out fate?--- but certainly not a trivial machine.
Thanks! What a mystery the human being! Your poem, like many expressions of awe before our amazing nature, is ultimately just an expression of the wonder of the Hebrew poet facing creation: “When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?” (Psalm 8 in its classical King James version). Do you know that this phrase is still engraved in the frontispiece of Harvard’s Faculty of Philosophy building? I wonder if this very awe is still at the origin of our consciousness and our work…