Everyone thinks
beautiful singing of birds, no one who has feelings, no one to live some European tradition, is no longer impressed by the song of the blackbird after rain. And yet, there is something terrible in the singing of the birds, because it is such a song, but obedience to the curse that imprisons.
Adorno, Theodor W. "Natural beauty and artistic beauty" in: Aesthetic Theory. Tr.: Fernando Pérez Gutiérrez and Francisco Riaz. Orbis: Buenos Aires, 1983. p. 93
recently found a young pigeon dying
off the ground trying
goingway to a house in Villa Bosch.
a while I was looking at: two boys of ten years, I reckon,
were by my side.
The pigeon took two jumps, went into a house with five cats
and I passed him off.
I do not know how, do not ask me,
the pigeon jumped and jumped
went outside the house,
cats survived
and decided to care at home until can fly,
and continue his life
and be eaten, ultimately, other cats, have other injuries.
After three days of having it at home, in a cage that my uncle gave me
-who resigned and left the passion he had for caring
birds of all colors, all sizes ,
numbered, marked,
sorted by family-
found dead
the day of the tsunami in Japan.
last night I was alive.
After a while I was cleaning the cage,
getting the newspaper where the pigeon shit
with two or three cultural news
of little importance.
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