We had the garden by the seashore
The sky slipped through the windows
and mother sitting
on her low stool
embroidered the fields of spring
with the open doorsteps of the white houses
with the dreams of storks in the straw roof
written in the glaucous diaphaneity
You hadn’t come yet
I looked at the west and I saw you
– a rosy reflection on your hair
– a shadowy smile deep in the sea
Mother held my hands
But I
behind her tender shoulder
behind her pale hair
smoothed by fragrances of patience and kindness
I looked solemnly at the sea
A seagull was calling me
at the depth of the evening
there in the light blue contour of the mountains
The mirror designing dawn
and garden broke
Day before yesterday we buried the first swallow
with the sorrowful flutes of flowers
Then the children sat alone
before the evening window
staring at the dying sun
Behind the white wall of the yard
the road was waking up
and as the golden light was melting at a distance
the great shadow of mountains was rising
with the silent footstep of death
up to our white hands
to our hearts
up to our bowing foreheads
Mother, who is chiming
the horizon’s azure bell?
Libros Libertad 