On major Sabines, part two.

"From the sea, also from the sea,
from the fabric of sea that wrap us,
from the bang of the sea and its mouth,
from its dark vagina,
from its vomit,
from its dismal and deep pureness,
comes death, God, the rain
knocking at the window,
night, wind.

Also from earth,
from the sharp roots of houses,
from the naked and bleeding foot of trees,
from certain antique rocks that can´t be moved,
from deplorable pools, coffins of water,
from the fallen trunks where now lightnings are sleeping,
and from grass, that is the shadow of heaven´s branches,
comes God, the one-armed of a hundred arms,
blind of many eyes,
sweet, powerless.
(omniabsent, full of love,
deaf old man, without children,
spilling his heart in his belly´s cup)

Also from bones,
from the soundest salt of blood,
from the most loyal acid,
from the deepest and truthful sould,
the most eager food,
from liver and cry,
comes the tense surf of death,
and comes God laughing.
The books walk towards the bonefire.
The curtain rises: the sea appears.

(I´m not the author of the sea)"
--Jaime Sabines