continued ( here the II part.)
Mouse
walked with his backpack by the Franciscan places.
was no longer a tourist, but did not reach pilgrim.
in Greccio, the monk talked and talked and talked, with the irrepressible desire of which is forced to shut up long periods. But Cesco saw the sun, the cypress trees, the garden as a garden, the convent poor, remote villages attached to the soil. After complete left him alone in his cell exigua and rustic. Little else knew that Francisco XIII century, but the sun, the cypress, the garden as a garden, the convent poor, remote villages attached to the land, had fallen into a silent awe. For the first time knew the true silence is imperceptible.
returned to Assisi. He bowed to a church without realizing that it was now a cinema.
went down to San Damiano. Narrow hallways, steep stairs and lower doors to garden in Santa Clara, a scrap yard with some benches, trellises and potted plants with flowers. On the right wall, under the arch that housed a nest of swallows, was written the song to the sun. A bench balcony opened onto the plains and in the evening, between olive and cypress trees, the air was the color of oak burned in winter. Cesco
was quiet.
A girl read the song to her companions, it was nice to hear the tune. And San Francisco's words spoken by the girl seemed as quiet as the first time that were sung there. Cesco
was even more quiet.
suddenly gave him a rush. There was a gale crazy as usual. Now I sprang from the many hours of walking alone, and the Spirit Honduras saint.
He ran to the city shouting bits of the song:
- Altissimu, omnipotent, bon signore.
found the hotel room is cluttered, with its files, books, notes, its large blackboard full of formulas. All right aligned. The files, books, notes, slate, and did not fit. More than all that was in the air of Greccio.
- Laudato yes, missignore, per frate vento.
opened the window and began to lay the books for her. Singing, shouting, did not know what he was doing.
- aqua So the quale e multo utile et humile et pretiosa et caste.
Books and files out the window. I did not know what was said.
- strong focu Frate et jovial et forte.
More books by the window, the board also, and after her books about San Francisco. No longer served, more than anything in the air of San Damiano.
- Frate Sole, the Iorn quale noi per loi et aluminum.
could be a fit, could be the Spirit.
knocked on the door.
were the municipal guards.
Soon
lay face down, locked in the basement of the old house. Some evil troll had spoiled the day with that gale. Nibbling a slice of bread, and some crumbs fell to the ground. A hole in the wall came a mouse, took the biggest crumb and quickly went back into hiding. Cesco was surprised: he put a good piece of corduroy scope and repeated mouse game. He spent the afternoon lying on the ground giving crumbs to the mouse.
- Missignore, you TUCTA cum tue creature. begin to understand you, Francisco, I am able to entertain with a mouse.
no longer thought of any evil spirits.
street light dazzled him out, when he could look at it, it seemed new. Men also looked new, merchants, builders, maids, hotel bellman, the fat traveler. What was new was it as if you were born tenderness.
was no longer a tourist, but did not reach pilgrim.
in Greccio, the monk talked and talked and talked, with the irrepressible desire of which is forced to shut up long periods. But Cesco saw the sun, the cypress trees, the garden as a garden, the convent poor, remote villages attached to the soil. After complete left him alone in his cell exigua and rustic. Little else knew that Francisco XIII century, but the sun, the cypress, the garden as a garden, the convent poor, remote villages attached to the land, had fallen into a silent awe. For the first time knew the true silence is imperceptible.
returned to Assisi. He bowed to a church without realizing that it was now a cinema.
went down to San Damiano. Narrow hallways, steep stairs and lower doors to garden in Santa Clara, a scrap yard with some benches, trellises and potted plants with flowers. On the right wall, under the arch that housed a nest of swallows, was written the song to the sun. A bench balcony opened onto the plains and in the evening, between olive and cypress trees, the air was the color of oak burned in winter. Cesco
was quiet.
A girl read the song to her companions, it was nice to hear the tune. And San Francisco's words spoken by the girl seemed as quiet as the first time that were sung there. Cesco
was even more quiet.
suddenly gave him a rush. There was a gale crazy as usual. Now I sprang from the many hours of walking alone, and the Spirit Honduras saint.
He ran to the city shouting bits of the song:
- Altissimu, omnipotent, bon signore.
found the hotel room is cluttered, with its files, books, notes, its large blackboard full of formulas. All right aligned. The files, books, notes, slate, and did not fit. More than all that was in the air of Greccio.
- Laudato yes, missignore, per frate vento.
opened the window and began to lay the books for her. Singing, shouting, did not know what he was doing.
- aqua So the quale e multo utile et humile et pretiosa et caste.
Books and files out the window. I did not know what was said.
- strong focu Frate et jovial et forte.
More books by the window, the board also, and after her books about San Francisco. No longer served, more than anything in the air of San Damiano.
- Frate Sole, the Iorn quale noi per loi et aluminum.
could be a fit, could be the Spirit.
knocked on the door.
were the municipal guards.
Soon
lay face down, locked in the basement of the old house. Some evil troll had spoiled the day with that gale. Nibbling a slice of bread, and some crumbs fell to the ground. A hole in the wall came a mouse, took the biggest crumb and quickly went back into hiding. Cesco was surprised: he put a good piece of corduroy scope and repeated mouse game. He spent the afternoon lying on the ground giving crumbs to the mouse.
- Missignore, you TUCTA cum tue creature. begin to understand you, Francisco, I am able to entertain with a mouse.
no longer thought of any evil spirits.
street light dazzled him out, when he could look at it, it seemed new. Men also looked new, merchants, builders, maids, hotel bellman, the fat traveler. What was new was it as if you were born tenderness.
From: Ballarin JM, Francesco , Salamanca, Follow Me, 1975. pp. 34-36.
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