Thursday, February 16, 2006


Sergio Badilla Castillo

At that time I had the necromancer’s delirium who discovers
a village under the ground of the desert.
Caustic stonewalls devastated by the sand
confused mommies similar to my dim father.
It was not the innocence that infiltrated the doubt
but the mirage that the death causes.
I moved away towards the desert
to listen the strength of my pain prattle back in the wasteland.
I rambled over the plain and I spent whole nights
watching at the stars.
Days of absolute dogma in the plain
clues that shone on the limestone stone
in a landscape at the edge of the miserable land:
Were perhaps my brothers there or perchance my enemies?
or maybe my father on a beetle’s haunches
fleeing (moving about without a definite destination)
around the severity of the universe.


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