Thursday, July 15, 2010
The Sea (from Isla Negra)
The Pacific Ocean was overflowing the borders of the map.
There was no place to put it. It was so large, wild, and blue that it
didn't fit anywhere. That's why it was left in front of my window.
The humanists worry about the little men it devoured over the years.
They do not count.
Not even the galleon, laden with cinnamon and pepper that perfumed it as it went down.
Not even the explorer's ship --- fragile as a cradle dashed to
pieces in the abyss -- which keeled over with its starving men.
In the ocean, a man dissolves like a bar of salt. And the water
doesn't know it.
from Isla Negra, edited and translated by Dennis Maloney, White Pine Press