CHAPTER VII

                                                                                                               THE INNOCENT CHASTE

 

Gurnemanz, the voice of the past, the venerable old man, after solemnly recounting everything that once happened in those mysterious regions of the castle of Montsalvat, after the horrendous loss of the holy lance, continues to express himself in the following terms:

 

"Before the sanctuary, orphan of the sublime relic, Amfortas lay in fervent prayer, restlessly imploring a sign of salvation."

 

"A very intense, a dazzling divine effulgence then flowed from the Grail while a heavenly dream vision told him, with a clear accent, these words:" The wise man, the one enlightened by compassion, the innocent chaste, wait for him, HE IS MY CHOSEN".

 

In this, O Gods!, says the legend of the centuries, that a great scandal occurred among the people of the Holy Grail, because on the side of the sacred lake, at the bottom of the lonely forest, an ignorant boy was surprised who, wandering on those shores he would surely strike with his bow a very beautiful swan, the perfect symbol of the HOLY SPIRIT.

 

But ... And why all the fuss, tumult, disorder? Who has not mortally wounded the swan KALA-HAMSA?

 

Who has not violated the sixth commandment of the law of God that says: Do not fornicate?

 

"He who feels free from sin, let him cast the first stone"...

 

Oh blessed HAMSA miraculous; sexual force of the THIRD LOGOS; Immortal IBIS; white dove of the Grail! ...

 

The conquest of the ULTRA-MARE-VITAE, the SUPER-LIMINAL and ULTRA-TERRESTRIAL world, is only possible with the Initiatic stone -sex-, in which the religion-synthesis is contained, which was the primitive of humanity; the mystical wisdom of JANO, or of the JINAS.

 

Eliminate sex? Oh! No! No! No! ... Get over it? That is ostensible ... love is the best.

 

Let us now recite that beautiful poem by Amado Nervo that he titled:

 

 

THE DAY YOU LOVE ME

 

The day you love me will have more light than June;

The night that you love me will be a full moon,

With Beethoven notes vibrating in every ray

His ineffable things,

And there will be more roses together

Than in the whole month of May.

 

A thousand crystalline fountains

They will go up the slopes

Jumping singing waters.

The day you love me, the hidden groves

Arpeggios will resound never ever heard.

Ecstasy of your eyes, every spring

That there was and will be in the world, they will be when you love me.

 

Holding hands like blonde sisters

Wearing candid drops, the daisies will go

Through mountains and meadows

In front of your steps the day you love me...

And if you peel one off, it will tell you its innocent

Last white petal: Passionately!

 

All clovers will have four ominous leaves,

At the dawn of the day that you love me,

And in the pond, nests of unknown germs,

The mystical corollas of the lotuses will flourish.

 

The day you love me, every cloud will be

Wonderful wing; every blush, look

Of the Thousand and One Nights, each breeze a sing

Each tree a lyre, each mount an altar.

 

The day you love me, for the two of us

Will fit in a single kiss

The bliss of God.

 

 

                                                                                                                       CHAPTER VIII

                                                                                                         THE SON OF HERZELEIDE

 

Parsifal the chaste innocent, it is ostensible that in a remote past he had also wounded with his arrow the swan of immaculate whiteness, the miraculous HAMSA...

 

To the various questions that are being asked with such emphasis, he is silent, it is obvious that he ignores everything, he has eliminated the I-EGO, he does not even remember the name of his earthly progenitor, he has reconquered the Edenic innocence...

 

He only knows that his mother was called HERZELEIDE and that the deepest forest was her home.

 

His poor little mother with an aching heart gave birth to him, an orphan of a father, when his father, called Gamuret, fell gloriously between helmets and bucklers on the battlefield.

 

The adorable mother, to protect her son against the premature sign of heroes, raised him with infinite tenderness in a wasteland, stranger to arms and in the midst of the crassest ignorance.

 

However ... on any given day, that young man of heroic lineage saw human flames in the forest...

 

The brilliance of those shining-robed knights - the Knights of the Grail - was so bright that they happened to pass through those lonely wooded landscapes that the young man, driven by his heroic instincts, resolved to follow them through the mountains.

 

Protected with the weapons of Vulcan, that raptor fought the beasts of the abyss, vile representations of his ancient errors and reduced them to cosmic dust.

 

This is how the boy advanced to the domain of the Grail ... (This is how we must advance ...).

 

KUNDRY, HERODIAS, informs him that his adorable mother has died. Cruel news that plunges him into infinite bitterness impossible to describe in words...

 

Terrible moment this one; he rushes over the Hetaira like crazy, then falls faint and she immediately helps him with the delicious water of the spring ...

 

Then comes the tremendous hour: The Gundrigia says terrible things; for everything there is its day and its hour.

 

It is convenient now to remember that beautiful poem by Don Ramón del Valle Inclán, entitled:

 

THE ROSE OF THE CLOCK

 

It is the hour of the enigmas,

When the summer afternoon,

From the clouds he sent a kite

On benign pigeons.

It is the hour of the enigmas!

 

It is the time of the dove:

Follow the flights the gaze

Of a girl. Pink afternoon,

Musical and divine coma.

It's dove time!

 

It is the hour of the snake:

The devil plucks a gray hair,

The apple falls from the tree

And the glass of a dream breaks.

It is the hour of the snake!

 

It's chicken hour:

The cemetery has lights,

They cross themselves before the crosses

The blessed women, the wind is dying.

It's chicken time!

 

It is the hour of the maiden:

Tears, letters and songs,

The air full of orange blossoms,

The blue afternoon, just a star.

It's maiden time!

 

It's owl time:

The old man deciphers writings,

The mirror suddenly breaks,

The old woman comes out with the cruet.

It's owl time!

 

It is the hour of the fox:

A vihuela patrols the street,

Carry the old woman to the girl

A ring with a rose.

It is the hour of the fox!

 

It is time for the banshee:

A witch at the crossroads,

With the excommunicated prayer

She asks the dead man for his chain.

It's time for the banshee!

 

It's time to morning and evening twilight:

The owl lurks in the pine,

The highwayman on the road,

And in the brothel Satan.

It's twilight time!

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