Another website of

Midnight Sun - Creando un nuevo mundo

Click here to Spanish website  Spanish

Grian - Official Site of the Bestselling Author of The Gardener

 

 

Beyond the Rainbow

E-book edition

 

 

 

 

 

THE OAK (Excerpt)

The afternoon light filtered through the mountain slopes, silhouetting them against the sky and displaying the bearing of colossal dragons. The sun rays gazed at themselves in the lake’s mirror, acquiring the shape of dazzling glowworms, now dancing to the beat of the rhythmic movement of the water surface.  

      “Mmmm… mmmm… mmmm…” 

      Amadan opened his eyes astonished. 

      “Mmmm… mmmm… mmmm…” 

      The old Oak was humming an old melody which it had heard at times from its elders. 

      “I didn’t know that oaks sang,” said Amadan turning to face the tree once again. 

      “Oh, yes !” responded the tree with a deep voice after interrupting its chant. “We oaks sing to get ourselves off to slumber when winter is fast approaching.” 

      And the Oak continued its melody. 

      “Mmmm… mmmm… mmmm…” 

      “The thing is your song sounds familiar…” the lad interrupted it once again. 

      “Yes, of course,” the Oak replied. ‘It is an old song of the oaks, one which we sing when this time of year comes around. Probably, some ancestor of yours was able to understand the language of the trees and the animals. 

      And the tree picked up again the beat of its melody. 

      Amadan was not aware of what was happening within himself. That song… the serenity and the simplicity of the gigantic and ancient tree… the sunlight at twilight… 

      He rose to his feet and approached the unembraceable trunk of the Oak and, without saying a word, opened his arms and embraced it up to where his arms could  reach. Then, he placed his cheek to the tree trunk and closed his eyes. 

      The Oak stopped singing. There was a heavy and stuffy silence in the forest. 

       A profound peace invaded Amadan’s heart, and something within him told him that he had never felt peace like this. 

      He lost the feeling of his body. The old Oak and himself were one… One… in peace…  

      in an unrelatable peace… 

      in an … 

 

 

      “Mmmm…mmmm…mmmm…”                                                                              It was as if he awoke from a deep sleep. Amadan assumed that many hours must have passed. Possibly it would be completely dark. 

      He opened his eyes and was surprised to see that the afternoon light was still the same as when he embraced the Oak. 

      He slowly detached himself from the trunk, took several steps backwards and very gently said : 

      “Oak, how long have I been clinging to your trunk ?” 

      The Oak once again stopped its melody. 

      “Just several moments,”  was the answer. 

      “It seemed an eternity to me,” murmured Amadan while he wiped his forehead. 

          Something resembling a light laugh was heard. 

      “Time does not exist in the kingdom of peace,” the tree said in a murmur. 

      “Time does not exist in the kingdom of peace”,  repeated a voice within the youth. 

      “Oak, where does your peace rise from ?”  this time the youth asked with a lump in his throat. 

      Silence. 

      “My peace comes from the absolute absence of desires,” he finally heard its voice in the forest. 

      “I never thought…” 

      Amadan did not find the words that could express what he had felt. 

      “The trees, so as not to desire, not even do we desire to move ourselves,” the Oak continued. “For us it is enough to feel life within and without ourselves, with the murmur of the woods, with the humming of the birds we give shelter to, with the tickling of the squirrels on our wooden skin, with the caress of the wind and the sun, with the placid bath of the rain… Life gives us everything, all that we desire and need. Why lose peace with fictitious needs, with illusions and mirages…” 

      “I have enough just contemplating the lake. Month after month, season after season, year after year, century after century… the lake is always there, speaking to me of all of us who peek in its gleaming mirror. Mountains, forests, clouds, stars, suns and moons, all go through the big stage of its surface … I contemplate them all … I place my delight on all of them…” 

      “From this very same place, throughout the centuries, I have contemplated everything. And as you may understand, young man, I have nothing  more to wish for.”  

      And very, very slowly, from some place of the world of his dreams, the young man still heard it say : 

      “That  is where my peace comes from, Amadan. That is where…” 

      And then only a whisper with the rhythm of an old melody. 

      “Mmmm… mmmm… mmmm…” 

      Silence was all there was in Amadan’s soul. 

      “Until next spring, old Oak,’ he said in a murmur, so as not to disrupt the giant’s sleep.   

 

Cover of Beyond the Rainbow - E-book edition

Beyond the Rainbow - Recently translated. Open to its publication in English

 

 

 

 

 

 

Price: 5.00 €

PÍDALO YA

BACK