Stirring of wings
Whirr of the tides
Fluttering
Of giant bats
No cities
No towns
Just plains and
Fields
And mounts
And hills
And rocks
And
The lake
And
Afar the line of the sea
But
The smells of the jungle
The claw of raw blood
The red of the centuries
And ages of geology:
Genesis
Extinction
And
Extinction
Genesis
Concurrent
All time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lorca has a poem in which a landscape is wiped clean of the memory of horses, and he intends that image to mean the same thing your poem intends - extinction. There is no human presence in your poem, and consequently, the vistas are vast, the time scale immense, the distances boundless. There is no human presence to bring the landscape into a human perspective. And so it expands ad infinitum. having no human story to contain. This is brilliantly rendered.