All day long
in the sky this bird,
Where to rest?
'On the tree'
Where is the tree?
'In the field'
Where is the field?
'North at the wood'
Where is the wood?
'East of the mountain
'Where is the mountain?
'There you blind man, don't you see?'
Oh, yes, I see,
I see mountains of refuse, its smoke smells of fields and trees.
(a voice from the end of the 20th century):
'Signs are imminent winds. In the stars,
On that day,
the mother will not Recall her infant,
Nor the sky its stars,
And between the seasons
No time for making the crossing'