Fortunate the one who at the root
has within hand’s reach
the flower.
The sediment of centuries cuts
the tutelary home into the stone.
By those rooms does one enter
the labyrinth
where light scatters its enigmas.
Fortunate the one who in the pyramidal
centre
founds the rising stairs.
In the beginning was writing
the stellar signs of continuity.
There rest the codes of knowledge:
the mountain and the river.
Fortunate the one who finds
his fulfillment in sap
and aspires to the spiraling perfume
of the flower formed by stars.
translated by Katherine M. Hedeen
Leonard Durso 
Wow.
Ditto.
Wonderful
Glad you think so.
Beautiful. A amazing poem.
Glad you like it, John.
I did like. I believe us writers must ensure the ancient an modern writers are never forgotten.
I agree.
Reblogged this on johncoyote and commented:
Please read the words and thoughts of a talented writer.
Thanks for reblogging this Cuban poet.
My honor. A outstanding poem.
Most beautiful poem.dear leonardo.