The wind, one brilliant day, called

To my soul with an odor of jasmine

“In return for the odor of my jasmine,

I’d like all the odor of your roses”

“I have no roses; all the flowers

In my garden are dead”

“We’ll then, I’ll take the withered petals

And the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain”

The wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself:

“What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?”

– AntonioMachado translated by Robert Bly

So I started a journey to re-discover

the odour of my roses

And the odor of my roses –  Is is jasmine? Is it olive? Is it aloe?

And I was glad. For I found that my odour was not lost

But the wind had already taken it away

Returning simply encouraging me to renew

With the mixture, the cocktail of scents of who I had recently become

My fear turned into purpose, and into the expectation

Of the call of the wind to come again

To receive the new scent of my roses, my thoughts, my life

And prepare for the bloom of yet another season

And the next call, one brilliant day