The sea is the cradle of life by a process not yet well known to have something of a miracle, which came out the first cell, the original protoplasm gradually evolved to become the lower forms of living beings, until one or a couple of them who had made their home in the deep waters, were banished or pure desire to be alone, walked the trails of sand and swam the murky waters to light that could see above, adopting a sort of amphibious life on the beach that gradually became land. The land, then and full of trees, plants and flowers, clean rain and wind, full sun, began to be populated and encouraged to reach us, those who arrived from the sea to uninhabited world. Here I come to its shores, tired for no reason from walking away. Some deserted to fold my wings wet stone twilight waters, in a bubbling roar like coming and running and beginning to lose, in my home without a mother, family or anyone saying that out, no one telling me to come in, one thing with me same, inside myself, without a shadow lying beside me in the sand and can get naked in the sea to feel again purified the land. Here I come to live in waterfront undoubtedly intelligent, the same waters of life geometry. Sea, the mighty doer of geographies, the purifier of universes, bachelor imperturbable laughing, dancing, working, powerful, robust and transparent, pure sound of singing that often turn into starry roar. Chilean sea sings Don Alonso De Ercilla when he tells you came to Chile in realizing that his ship was the flagship of the fleet, which dropped the rough storm without a government walked shed when, with such fury to the ship the wind assails, and so hard and quickly the earthquake, the big wave caught the mainsail and was high point of being broken mast, by the raging sea, the mighty wind, the cry, fuss, the promises, the night closed in a moment of gloomy and thick black clouds, the thunder, lightning without story, the frightened voices of pilots are making a sad and perishing world harmony that the force so fierce that no rigging ruled the sea to the sky up. Anger was impatient, had not yet subsided people, when was that pilots were angry wind along the coast and the ship leaning toward her, giving up the hope to the hard fate, with the swollen waves in neighboring rebramando ragged rocks in penetrating the darkness dark, boiling water with sand and the four powerful elements conspired against weak ship, transferring its terms and seats going at all messy, unruly, angry and violent, removed, stirred and mixed in their ancient enmity and full force, as in the chaos and confusion first. For so many fought against the struggling ship broken, one side was almost submerged, contrasting the powerful waves: more and the raging wind and sea exhausted, unable to resist, he gets closer to the stiff cliffs raised, from the violent waves hit . Mourns over the death present, the voices and pity grew, pilots, sailors and people, like madmen, without order ran. The one with the other crosses, and thus prevents disturbed fear, public voices who confesses to God and ask forgiveness for their mistakes, who vows express who promise the absent mother who is fired, making the great fear of ever greater laments, prayers and cries. Moreover, the sky all seemed rigorous him to the ground, and the stormy sea lifted in pride swelling up to heaven. What is it, Eternal Father Almighty? The stronger confidence and encouragement were delivered unwelcome fear that the terrible image of death is printed on the face to everyone: from everything and surrendered to their fate, without hope of any remedy, the government ran left to the fates blundering hither and thither. But God, who does not forget his own (although it expands its favor), to the place turned cold blood, when the sudden joy threw out fear was suspicious that the members and homeless, sheltering them at a small island to resist the fury angry, and tidal shocks continued beating furiously from side to side, a creek that flows as calm and peaceful heart which makes it safe housing and shelter and where the sweet daylight come and had landed saved.
Don Pedro de Ona also saw the wrapped Chilean sea raging with anger, when a neighbor without looking color to another without fear blinded him, people talking in loud voices but pure deaf, speechless, confused, wasteful, the most trembling in standing and kneeling, looking tearing the sky above, opening between the deep sea waves, and the broken machine in the world composed spill the ground. Now all calm, as they say nothing happened here. Sea birds, rocks and exploding in the pine north of my window, looking like dark mass slumber tired as love without kisses. Below is my deck seals with their families in the sea cliffs and other jump off the shore of crystal clear water wet to see the starfish lying on a transparent background. Terns, gentle and graceful cross from side to side like arrows going back and forth from their caves. Under the beach followed by Lucrecia and Obama, not a bird nor man has touched before that newfangled walked by the new situation, while the foam rise exceeded the gentle breeze through the gorges, la arena descubierta en que van quedando nuestras huellas es borrada por las verdes olas suaves que se asoman tímidas de blanca espuma antigua y sal azul de mar paseando solo, a pasos lentos. Mis perros se adelantan corriendo y ladrando hasta detrás de unas grandes rocas: en un blanco grupo salen volando gaviotas en bandada tumultuosa. Siento un pájaro volar de mi pecho y volver a mi en igual instante. Este es el mar con sus propios sentidos el que borra mis huellas, el más poderosos, el que he visto abrirse de par en par, quebrado de repente, en cuyo centro mi ojo viera el comienzo del mundo, con el mar riendo y batiendo la cola, sintiendo salir de mi mismo como espuma en galope, sacudido. Miro restos de mástiles y grúas, entre corales y algas, some as thin as I had not seen, shapes and new colors, salt eaten my eyes dismissed. A group of pelicans out of their cold rocks and manure, slow harsh. I remember the old Nicanor Parra, a few days ago, on the terrace of my home to watch the liquid away, as I now do, saying as he says a prayer: "My family had always lived in the central valley or the mountain, I never knew the sea until I went with my father banished to Chiloé, where to exit the train, in a voice that I have in the intact ear, said my father, this is, boy, the sea. The calm sea. The sea glass bathes the country. " Shortly before 27 February in 2010, when I lived everything and nothing, nothing and everything. Now when I feel I am again, singing loudly, I think, freshly washed.
© Waldemar Verdugo Fuentes. Chilean writer
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