And storks
this ship aground, have left the deck
a dream of love. A child
salter,
dark, with black curls,
sailor, Chiclana ...
The sirens saline
on nights with dew and moonlight,
the harbor with dried seaweed,
and sing lullabies.
Ah, my child sailor
of black curls and Chiclana,
you were born in Paradise,
under the best of heaven.
AMD-M.
Photo: F. Vargas