A Fleeting Boy

I was walking along that hill. It was a beautiful mountain countryside, full of winds, sown fields and violets.

The moon was new, so I was feeling my way among the frailejones. I didn't worry when I briefly lost the path, for I had a vague sense of knowing that route.

I stopped for a moment on a small summit to remember. Meanwhile, off to one dark side, sitting on a stone, I saw the boy.

He didn't notice me. He was gazing at the sky with infinite melancholy, yet hinting, from deep within, at a great peace.

The murmur of a sad sigh reached me, and it seemed to comfort him

His eyes cried out long sorrows. In them you could read the most heartrending stories any man could ever have lived. And yet they thanked the stars for keeping him company as he sat there on a stone

The luminous vault seemed to understand him, twinkling as never before on a new-moon night. A barely perceptible breeze came down, gently rocking his hair.

The boy seemed lost to the world in his contemplation. His peace grew as he stayed there, as if letting himself be bathed by the delicate light that ruled the valley stretching out at his feet.

I blinked, and when I turned to him again from my hiding place, his expression had changed completely.

I followed his gaze. A shooting star was crossing the Milky Way, standing out with its graceful glow among sparks of blessing.

I looked back at the boy. His face was radiant, eagerly reflecting the swift fall of that colossal heavenly messenger. In that brief breath of light, he let slip an ironic smile. He seemed to be whispering, so I strained my ears.

"Shooting star, you who grant every wish from the heart, who console the afflicted and lift up the fallen. I would like to ask you..."

His pause was so brief that he still had time to ask:

"Stay forever, dear shooting star. Stay with me. That is my wish."

Before reaching the horizon, the star in question gave off one last spark and vanished.

The boy stayed a moment with a look of surprise, as if getting used to the darkness again. It was I who was surprised when, instead of lamenting, the melancholy left his soul and he sighed, full of infinite peace.

After a long while, I came out of my reverie. My attention had been poured into that nocturnal ghost of the hills. An inner impulse suddenly pulled me away from there.

"Ah, it's this way," I thought. And I happily took up my path again.