Raúl Zurita Poems

XXXVIII
Over the cliffs of the hillside: the sun
then below in the valley
...

Speak of the whistle of Atacama
the wind erases like snow
the color of that plain
...

i. Let's look then at the Desert of Atacama

ii. Let's look at our loneliness in the desert
...

Arid plains do not dream
No one has ever managed to see
Those chimerical pampas
...

Down below, the endless stones of the desert,
mountains of stones, long escarpments of
stones, infinite stones on the desert like a sea.
The sky above, the blue sky falling. The stones
...

There's a ship in the middle of the desert. A
ship lying on the stones of the desert and
above, the sinking tombstone of the sky. The
inverted ocean of the sky falls on the stones and
...

From far off it looks like a black stain, but it's a
ship. Below it the stones piled up against its
hull seem like waves. But they are not waves,
they are only stones and they cry out. The
...

The desert cries out, the dry empty port cries
out, the sea of stones cries out whipped by the
wind. Mireya places flowers for the crew of a
black rusty ship. Each flower has a name and
...