Old Debris Recorded
Old debris still stands alone on the shore,
shivering on the sand motionless,
the roar of the waves lifts it,
its mouth open without a message.
The night wind touches it with its hand,
bringing out stains on it,
while calling out the signal of death,
in the dunes everything comes to an end.
The feathers of shot seagulls are still neatly stored,
bottles still roll silently over their bodies,
fish are found beginning to swell,
waiting their turn to disappear.
Hour after hour,
day after day,
the muddy ground slides away,
the stunted trees slumber under the seduction of sinful hands.
The heart of the intelligent being still acts like a factory chimney,
whose right it is to gaze upon all creation,
even he himself does not know,
the hustle and bustle of his footsteps is but an emptiness.
Atambua-NTT, Indonesia, December 2, 2025
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