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And a handful of bones under it: The flesh wore away from atop them
In the darkness of the earth, they shine with the splendor of glistening metal –
With the wonderful attractiveness of the bird in its nest
It wandered afar, from the wife, the children and the houses that we built
It spread over the bare mound, the childhood then will come with our blood
With this type of strong pleasant agony, that a man hears with the perception
Of voices emanating from inside of him as if from an echoing cave.
Day by day, before daybreak
Even the herons, lovely birds that quiver
As is known, like brides in their wedding whiteness, no grace
And no vitality in them, only grayness and smokiness, like a monster of the
Creator
In silent darkness. Furthermore, the field into which they descend,
Located between our houses with its green grass
With a dual image among the mountain ridges (One face toward us,
And one toward them), and its air looks out at the sun,
Honey golden like the wings of dancing birds:
At that moment, it is also silent, only like a sort of hallway
Long and narrow, covered in concrete
And at its end – the heart already guesses this – investigators await
Thousands with cold eyes
Day by day, day by day. |
