fledglings
below the precipice sprawls despair, and at the precarity of peering in
they hold the mournful meaning, send a glance, the corpse’s froth meanly menacing
a directly descending beak, overbearing
into the bottomless darkness, it cut across my field of vision
dragged forth by the hair, my disappointment becomes known
both legs thrust out, the electronic sound rings endlessly
if i start walking, the compass of my self-restraint runs wild
you, listening to the treble tones of birds at the harbor
the swirling chaos unstopping, so that scraps of paper or white flags
might be understood, rings of multilayered revolutions
can’t adjust to the gloom, the memento’s silhouette
sits up halfway, stick-straight trees sway their short sleeves
gazing into a divided dark fable, it can’t be decided
from somewhere a wind’s small voice was chosen
oars dangling doll’s heads, at the visiting hint of salt
the mountain’s veins are opened, they alternated lushly
faced with the wall of red soil, these hands cannot move
at the door of sliding memory, the horizon’s curtain falls, brought to the meeting of the tides caught between the merry-go-round’s endangered ocean and the shore, the careless consumption that hastened the cretaceous, the fledglings attending to the rectangle that juts out over the cliff, they look left look right
with voices also swollen, cylindrical throats with eggs could sound
translated by Julia Hansell Clark
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