THE HUMMINGBIRD

With agile flight the hummingbird descends
to a pomegranate tree that bleeds under the day,
and in pursuit of the hidden ambrosia
in the reddest flower its beak turns on.

Like a jewel that animate a goblin
with a breath of invisible sorcery
shines before the flower and releases it
and with her in the air he was ecstatic.

Lift it up proudly over the peak and then
in the swings of funny game
remains in full light as abstracted.

And in the morning shining with gold
it seems to me, iridescent, a sonorous
ray of sun that would have blossomed.