The pale red of the dunes.
Cloaked horizon.
The sharp blue-white of salt in my retinae.
Deep contrast,
eons of erosion
immensurable expanse
air, sand, air.
Ancestral sea.
Image of our forebears.
The eternal cycle
reverberates,
drought and deluge
rain from the north
broken banks
birds and fish
flood
renewal
hysteresis
drought
renewal.
Saltpetre scab
drifting dust
thirsty animals perish
skeletons scorched by a colossal sun.
And the wind carrying
the stench of death.
Stories speak of an island
in the centre of the lake
haven for birds by the thousands
resting from long haul flights.
Stories speak of men and a train,
of an old propeller plane, stranded for good,
of columns of camels.
Stories speak of stars and planets,
of timeless streams and their offshoots.
I dig into my memories and find nothing,
no mention of this inhospitable place
in my eyes
this lake has neither past nor future.
Here I become transient, slight,
immaterial,
foreign,
an inconsequential passer by
wasted in the bright heat of the day.
From Distancia Cero
Translated by Eyal Chipkiewicz
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