On my heart,
parables written by the sea.
The air carries them away.
Among the green pines
the air from the sea blows,
to the ground by its salty lips.
Separate. The sea brings words.
The sea knows the stela of the rivers
amd the smoke mouth of the factories.
The sea knows the dream of the lizard
and the way of lights of the stars.
The sea knows everything.
This afternoon it writes it in your memory.
(From "Perhaps the light")