I
At last man has seen the death of the free bird
Over the sands mingled with sea-wrack
The nude-necked predator showed himself
Beating his wings thrice
And losing height he resumed
His long strokes across the waves
The sea lifted him with its misty breath
Like the fruit of its own entrails
And through a hole opened in the wind
The bird has shot once more
See him returning to the shore
Calmly disdaining the spoil thrown up
By the tide since nightfall
The call of the deep must have sounded within him
For the flight of his damnation
Buffeted by the coastal breeze
His slanted gaze surveying
A boat like an islet
And man has followed bird until his final plunge
II
Behold the predator of naked neck
Now but a plaything of the waves
He swims and doesn’t know it
He dances and doesn’t feel it
Time was shattered in his fall
Spreading its days across the spume
Like the bird’s feathers
Drawn back to the maternal breast
Before the hawk’s harsh destiny
The man has never quitted the strand
He follows from there the ball tossed by the waves
And night falls like a shell
Blasting the sea
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