It will give you life

Starlings make and unmake
unsuspected patterns
while they fly over the trees,
now together and in a crowd,
now alone and wide apart.

Within the pale blue of the sky,
above the city,
beyond the hung out washing.

Far away from roofs and terraces,
delicate blots on the evening,
delicate blots on the evening.

Along indifferent streets
I see some young people.
If they happen to look up at the sky
it is to see how someone
or something falls.

Men and women who pass each other
go by old people and children;
the shops are closing.

The starlings go on
with their flight up there,
with their flight up there.

The city is also this.
And loading and unloading,
and some hands working,
and the useful song of motors,
and the light that is getting thin.

A voice that arrives in dreams
between question and answer
tells me these words:

"What life takes away,
what life takes away
will give you life".

Starlings make and unmake
unsuspected patterns.