The dove was wrong.
The dove was mistaken.
To travel north she flew south,
Believing the wheat was water.
...
I sell clouds of colours,
Ellipses, reddened
To temper the heat!
...
If my voice dies on land,
Carry it down to the sea,
And leave it there on the shore.
...
With gentle red assaults, Dawn, I was granting you names:
Mistaken dream, Angel without exit, Falsehood of rain in the trees.
At the edges of my soul, that recalls the rivers,
Indecisive, hesitant, still.
...
Go, drinking fields and cities,
Transformed to a great deer of water,
Be the ocean of bright dawns,
The kingfisher's nest on the waves.
...
Search, search for them:
In the insomnia of forgotten conduits
In gutters blocked by the muteness of litter.
Not far from the pools incapable of retaining a cloud,
...
My roe deer, dear friend,
My white roe deer.
The wolves slew her
...
Why look so serious, dear road?
You have four grey mules,
A horse in front,
...
For you I left my woods, my lost
Grove, my sleepless dogs,
My important years, those banished
Almost to my life's winter.
...