Aguifreda Bay

by Pedro Serrano

At the bottom of the cliff they pile up -
solid and lumpen,
the rocks that have been falling,
slipping down without reaching the sea,
the sea that bellows and smokes, breaking below.
In thousands of years,
you tell me from our vantage point above,
all this will be sand.
As we looked at the inlet
suddenly our perspective widened
and everything reversed -
we became infinitely tiny,
as though we were dwelling inside those gigantic boulders.
At the foot of the cliff we considered
the granular movements of sand,
the flotsam and jetsam,
and we took shelter in any one of those pebbles.
Shrinking, we felt the rough grain of the rocks,
a wall from which the sandstone is loosened,
the outline of ourselves.
Fractures and faultlines of the accretions of minerals -
this is what we are.
The detritus of shadows, the seams of grey,
begin to glimpse themselves in the sky.
Drawing breath once more brought back the pines,
the coastline, a path.

The literal translation of this poem was made by Gwen MacKeith

The final translated version of the poem is by Sarah Maguire


  1. June 2nd, 2014 at 3:40 pm

    Tapangia Richardson says:

    so sensative

  2. April 29th, 2014 at 3:55 pm

    innis says:

    beautiful and complex

  3. January 20th, 2013 at 7:57 am

    Pua says:

    The poem is average. it moves way too qulikcy for me, and is slightly awkward in some places, maybe try being more concise, exploring different words. I liked the first 8 lines, the last 4 are really weak.

  4. April 13th, 2010 at 6:12 am

    Josue Montes Cone says:

    Amazing!!! Faboulus!! I love it!!

    Es la escencia innata del mar

    que entre sus espumosas olas

    se lleva y mece los recuerdos

    se lleva y mece la esperanza

    parece acercarce y con caricias recias

    llevarse mis sufrimientos

    pero solo se lleva la esperanza

    que estando lejos, se pierde

    y oscurece con el alba.

    Paso a paso en el arrisco,

    me adentro a no pensarte mas

    el polvo de las piedras

    se sumerge en el abismo,

    tengo tendidas de mis manos

    tus gaviotas, que con sus garras afiladas

    se aferran a mis brazos,

    asediando mis memorias

    de cuales ellas se alimentan

    como siempre tan gustosas.

    las muerden, las despedazan

    sus boronas quedan bautizadas

    entre el velo largo de las olas

    donde se lleva y mece los recuerdos

    se lleva y mece la esperanza.