On his way to the Andes he goes
singing, in the evening, about his pain and his joy.
And the black eagle flying in the sky
stops for a moment, dazzled by sunlight.
Down below, Mother Earth1 is putting her hands
to her chest as she falls asleep.
She casts back the echo of his voice
without knowing why.
The echoes fade in the distance.
" My beautiful bird, please, teach me
how to grip the sky with my fingers "
But the eagle gave him no answer.
Its shriek faded into night's sleep.
...
On his way to the Andes, he set out again.
Night swallowed his songs and his cries.
...
1. I think Earth is too strongly personified to remain neutral here