AN ODE TO PRIMAVERA ISLANDS
June 8, 2003 | 12:00am
Primavera" because in so many ways our good islands in eternal spring should be called "Primavera Islands" due to their glorious greens. Fruitful and flowerful scents. Generous sunlight. Brilliant beaches in thrilling effulgence. An eternal spring, sensuality lolling in the warm waters. The green shade under hospitable trees. The tangled reflections on a lagoon in a splendid manner diffusing floods of light. The little breezes creeping over quivering reflections, over polished waters. The colorful, bright winged things. The ferny weeds, a day-dream. Nature a-bubble with the vigor of eternal growth. The pink suggestive lips of a shell unfurling in a spiral twist.
In their miles of length, the beaches are covered with delicate embossed patterns, trembling in the heat-haze under the sun, stepping into a mirage of diamonds, evergreen and aromatic habitat, the triumphant pleasure of laughter and limbs yielding passionately by a river of sparks. The smiles running along the complexions of newly-washed fruits, glistening palms swaying in the sun, sensing the air full of butterflies, moving with a gratifying rustle. The jungly parts of the archipelago teeming with waterfalls and flowered hills, peacock waters with scents spilled over elastic vines.
As the afternoon advances, the sky metamorphoses and pours upwards a great ball of fire before your eyes in a thrusted bowl of heat and light. The sun becomes a drop of burning gold, encased in the scent of ripeness. The colors of our celebrated sunsets increase, then drift and roll upwards. Clouds leap on wings of wind and we see a celestial fire with a heart of flame and riotous flowers. A lyrical daydream!
In their miles of length, the beaches are covered with delicate embossed patterns, trembling in the heat-haze under the sun, stepping into a mirage of diamonds, evergreen and aromatic habitat, the triumphant pleasure of laughter and limbs yielding passionately by a river of sparks. The smiles running along the complexions of newly-washed fruits, glistening palms swaying in the sun, sensing the air full of butterflies, moving with a gratifying rustle. The jungly parts of the archipelago teeming with waterfalls and flowered hills, peacock waters with scents spilled over elastic vines.
As the afternoon advances, the sky metamorphoses and pours upwards a great ball of fire before your eyes in a thrusted bowl of heat and light. The sun becomes a drop of burning gold, encased in the scent of ripeness. The colors of our celebrated sunsets increase, then drift and roll upwards. Clouds leap on wings of wind and we see a celestial fire with a heart of flame and riotous flowers. A lyrical daydream!
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