A cold wintry morning
At December's end.
The mountains invite one to climb,
To cross them through Guadarrama*
And at Segovia to discover
That jewel of Castile
Unveiled to nature.
Clouds of impatience
Comb the gray hair
On the mountain's temples
Between Segovia and Madrid.
Pale and moved
By the effect of the season,
Before the town of San Ildefonso.**
Replete with historic beauty
Sunk in satisfaction
To the neighboring palace of La Granja.***
All around… the mist lies low
The wind is blowing,
The trees undressed, complaining
Perhaps amused by the echo of surviving gardens
And the architecture of greatness.
Hard as much as sprinkled with dew,
Ccries out loud for warmth;
And it finds cover with leaves
That fell off the agonizing thought
Of seeing themselves… finished.
Like in an enchanting tale,
That visual image hits deep in the heart.
In the outskirts of the town,
Nearly touching the sky
A demeanor of splendor.
The rocks stand with pride
Like Roman soldiers once
Meanwhile over the skin of the mountain side
Ripple waves of vegetation
And enhancing shades of
A perfect frame, giving in to inspiration
And the purity
Between the light and soft touch
Of blinking rays of the sun.
Even past midday,
All of that appeared to me
Like an enchanting dream.
San Ildefonso remains
Stoned paved, encrusted in bricks,
Engraved in history
Sentinel of the mountain whose slope extended
Next to the charm of the day
Along the cold wind of winter
Armed with hunting weapons
To capture the moment
And make it prisoner of the soul.
(poem inspired by a trip to La Granja de San Ildefonso, Segovia, Spain... in December of 1999)
*Guadarrama is a series of mountains in the center of Spain, which can be passed over the top or through a modern tunnel between Segovia and Madrid.
** San Ildefonso is and old town next to Segovia where the kings built the palace of La Granja.
*** La Granja is an old royal palace… The Versailles of Spain.
© By Emiliano Martin (Poeta48@aol.com)