Morning Song of the Wild Cock

or On the Grand Scheme of Things

At the first morning lights, a wild cock comes scurrying into the market of a village, screaming, shouting and generally looking out of his mind.

No one in the village seems to pay too much attention to the cock, nor the peculiar aspect of his nature; besides possessing the use of reason, it had been taught, no one knew by whom, to express itself in human fashion.

“Waaaake uuuuup! Wake uuuuuuuup you foooooooools!”

“Shut up you rooster! Stop being so annoying or we’ll pull your neck and roast you for supper tonight,” shouted an artisan who was sweeping the entrance of his shop.

The cock rushes through the middle of the square, dodging the attempts of those who try to catch him. He runs towards the church as if he were late for something, erratically flapping his wings to perch on the top of the stairs, from where he could speak to the crowds in the market from a vantage point.

“Mortals, awake! The day breaks; truth returns to the earth and vain fancies flee away. Arise; take up again the burden of life; forsake the false world for the true…”

An old man had rushed to scold him, in the same fashion a father would scold his son for eating too much chocolate or staining his pants with mud.