Voyager



What climate is this of shifting sands and beyond its age
What country of clamoring and humid sombreros
In vigilance of horizons
What great silence over the earth without object
Preferred only of certain words
That no one even fulfills his destiny
It’s not changing sadness for a window or a
     reasonable flower
Nor is it the sea in place of a memory
It’s an aspiration in its night
It’s life with all its seeds
It’s explaining itself alone and decorated like a mountain
     that bids goodbye
It’s the fight of hours and streets
It’s the breath of trees invading stars

They are squandered rivers
It’s the fact of being loved and bleeding amid waves
Of having meat and eyes toward total harmony
And sailing from depth to depth amid fragile ghosts
And flying like the dead around the bell tower
Walking for the orphaned time of its suns
From dream to reality and reality to a vision tangled in the night
And always in man a secret dialog
In jumping of barriers always in man

Vicente Huidobro