Project MUSE - Canto Ninth, The Canary Bird / Ninth Canto, The Canary



Canto Ninth The Canary Bird

In the trine was born the yellow name of the island of the Canary bird. Its flight inaugurated the galas of the planet, the morning of the sky, the earthly clarity to the sun that lifted its dawn.

The dazzling echoes grew, the noisy joy of fertilization, slender glimpses of the greenery of the fronds with the ardent syllables of the airing on the fragrance of the breeze

Lively gems sank into the wind. Embraced evasive topaz, morning diamonds of whistles and anxieties, announcing the midday lightin the wild dreams of the eternal

Under this unusual glow where inspiration is pulse and energy, the sacred vertigo of a legion of feathers spins like a fleeting parade of the festival that expands the path of the forest.


In his silky body shines the gold, the youth without dates that cross the tersuracon with the insistent grace of his flute hidden, popping with his flame prophecies and auroras and the most erect boiling of the blood. Anarchy is its flight, crystalline frenzy, drawing in the air the celestial gust, the the dissipated wake that in the morning vibrates, being lost in the end to the incandescences on the immense space and the infinite time.

Alada abbreviation, diaphanous myth, [End Page 136]

In his silky body, gold glistens, dateless youth cutting smoothness with his hidden flute's insistent grace, peopling prophecies and dawns with his calland blood's most upright seething.

p> His flight is anarchy, a crystal frenzy, sketching in air to celestial gust, the wake dispersed, vibrating in morning, in the end, losing itself towards incandescenceover immense space and infinite time.


Winged abbreviation, transparent myth, [End Page 137]

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The prodigy of the breeze, tiny comet, his delight by the ramp of the air, unstoppable, to the white page of all beginnings.

The canary bird in cage rebellion, sings the freedom denied him. which is no longer a flight, penetrates through the clouds and goes back to the blue signature of its melancholy. The bird was pounding on an intensatal scale a hammer of sun breaking its crystals in a dimension of harp and lament of violin runaway looking for his stars, the rites freed from his life in the fronds.

In the afternoon his sweetness accumulated with a chirp of rains and stained glass, in each spout a melodious dream, he chooses the peace of lemonade, and overflows in his cup the raving.

His triumph is illuminated, transformed into twilight, in fire released by his sonorous spiral, so that man the light of the senses, and on his island of sun, joy will rise with the indomitable luxury of his song. [End Page 138]

Miracle of breeze, minute comet, born by an impulse, he flies on in his delightalong the ramp of air, unstoppable , till the white page of all beginnings.

The canary bird in caged rebellionsings the freedom he was denied, dreams to forget he's no longer flight, piercing through clouds and soaringhis melancholy's blue firmament.