THE CLAY CHOOSES A MAN Poem by Héctor Rojas Herazo

The clay chooses a man, it points at him and matures him,
it gives him his splendor and his quiet strength
and a bit of ashes it pours into his blood.
Afterwards the man searches, undoes himself, remembers,
unravels his hours,
puts his blood against the light
and one afternoon he understands that oblivion has triumphed.
It is time, he says to himself,
it passed over my head
it rained on me
it trembled on my breast
and it lit another lip to swell my sadness.
Then he searches, he looks, he returns for his forehead,
he asks in the winter about his interrupted summer.
And only the air, the dream, vague things, a bitter sweetness,
wound him without wounding him, they undo him, singing.