135. QUIMBAYA CÓNDOR

135 QUIMBAYA CÓNDOR Feathered forge, breast of the earth. between sheets of green and glittering ocher through the Andean mountain ranges they plowing from the heights to the side and side of the cliff, golden fabric the salamander and the dragon, through the nails the great vein.

The goldsmith of the mountain range Strain the gold between the sifter of the immensity, for the Cauca, vein of Agatas its mist and its cold currents

descents from the moor

and blessed by the Frailejón. the grain between your defileable legs

AG

the emptiness and the icings of your eyes amid the honey-laden jingle and onyx from your shoulders To shine the great gold from there, Cross eyes and both, rainbow.

In his watchtower he sinks from the chimerical solitudes

the great condor windowsill of the untamed he scrutinizes the great cloak with his wings. From the clouds of his neck

Up to the cliffs Where their eggs are tempered To the greenery of the mountains Even the fringed carrion of you the great king of the Andes Chordate keeper From the heights in your heart high flow airbrush from the bones and on the walls

of the invisible tree of men

Great goldsmith Designing between the rivers grain by grain Your big pendant choking with sighs For the orb.

Fact of detachment and play Between the squirrels and the mountain range Sheets and chips of cloud and cataract And with hands tearing the hole to weave and weave the loom. Compacting wing flap golden sunset granules.

Carrion and brilliance of your gallant and perennial feast day Slit and claws to entwine the pita, Catch the two glens looking at each other, At the foot of the mountain next to two alligators, Circulating bet on the chest of the earth. Slipping and hunted for the intangible. Your egg And your great bow rolling the blades Thin, to the laminate of creation, With your carnelian head and tabernacle, Goldsmith watch; With your wings spread forming the great arch of the celestial vault, what is catafalque For your great banquet. In the slow motion of anticipation You, lulling glider the sphere And with your claws ductilizing the metal. To be the thinnest pectoral on the globe, For the great carnival of creation.