They're all gone
towards that place in the North
where the grasses grow
to the height of their breasts
They left behind them
tattered strips from their children's clothes
and the pegs of their tents
They're gone
Their children on the backs of mules
Their youths carrying baskets
and their sheep's bells
They were like a cloud
climbing up to heaven
The more they penetrated the land
the more their shadows expanded
and returned towards the camps

Their dogs were mute
They would surpass the migrating crowd , then sit down
their eyes watching
the moving shadows
as they ran back ward
like a dark river.