[A flock of cranes]
A flock of cranes
crosses an ashen sky
the prophet is first to rise
black lines
cleave through the black air
a closed alphabet
dead trees
reappear
their roots raise cathedrals
my hands translate
the songs of a single stone
I was born
not to lose
the movement of their scripture
their priests are a fleeting mist
they light the flame
take wing
& vanish.
Translation from the Spanish