Nada Es Mezquino

Nothing is mean, and no rough hour, nor is the fortune of the night dark. And the dew is clear, the sun rises and dazzles and desires the bath that marvels at the bed of all things made. Nothing is mean, and everything rich like wine and weathered cheek. And the sea wave always laughs, Winter's Spring - Summer's Spring. And everything is Spring: and every leaf, green eternally. Nothing is mean, because the days do not pass; and death does not come even when asked for. And if you have asked for it, a hole disguises you because to be born again you need to die.
And we are never a cry but a delicate smile that disperses like orange slices. Nothing is mean, because the song sings in every blade of grass. -Today, tomorrow, and yesterday a rose will shed its petals: and the youngest virgin will have milk come to her breast.