Bursts of dust advance and pass from me,
as fast rampant snakes.

The Sun is  all present
tense my skin,
that will burn tomorrow,
making memory.

 
My steps with crushed noise
describe this soil

Hard, dry,
rough, calcined.
 

I rise slowly, into dust,
between pebbles and brave herbs.
Bushes with the patience of the years,
motionless in the wind that whips me.
 

The heat is felt in the eyes.
Ah! Divine water, wherever you are!
 
All color by tenuous is scandal and wonder,
in an increasingly light air,
in an almost white blue that blurs,
in this infinite horizon.

 
I'm foreign,
I'm foreign here!
In this immense landscape,
that violent,
reclaims me for itmself.