Triangles

Three triangles of birds crossed  
Over the enormous ocean which extended  
In winter like a green beast.  
Everything just lay there, the silence,  
The unfolding gray, the heavy light  
Of space, some land now and then.  
Over everything there was passing  
A flight  
And another flight  
Of dark birds, winter bodies  
Trembling triangles  
Whose wings,  
Frantically flapping, hardly  
Can carry the gray cold, the desolate days  
From one place to another  
Along the coast of Chile.  
I am here while from one sky to another  
The trembling of the migratory birds  
Leaves me sunk inside myself, inside my own matter  
Like an everlasting well  
Dug by an immovable spiral.  
Now they have disappeared  
Black feathers of the sea  
Iron birds  
From steep slopes and rock piles  
Now at noon  
I am in front of emptiness. It’s a winter  
Space stretched out  
And the sea has put  
Over its blue face  
A bitter mask.