The xane was sitting down, down sitting by a river of summer.
The afternoon was green in the forest; and as the xane was whining her disgrace, and as the xane was whining, the immense wings of a cuélebre were heard, before it were seen.
Heard it were, like a thunder rolling amongst fallen leaves & the air of the autumn.
Then, seen it were: their giant size projected a horrid shadow on trees & the river Eo.
With the repugnant sound his sibilant wings produced, moved heavy & slowly across the summerair, the cuélebre was landing with abominable majesty close to the xane.
The xane felt fear, though fear the xanes seldom feel, but grief.
The red and flaming eyes of the cuélebre were fixed on the xane: after some minutes, he talked at last...
"Mine these lands are: who are you?
whoever dare to roam by lands that mine are, from the river to this side, and over the hills, and far away, my automatic property is.
Donzelle of sad eyes: what your home, what your land is?"
Silent during some minutes the xane was, fixed on the green soil her eyes were; finally with an enigmatic stare, answered these lines to the cuélebre, who listened with profound attention...
"Strange creature, my brother from over the hills and far away, tell me: where am I?
I come escaping from the fury of the countrymen of Bisuyu: they accused me of being who stole their children.
The children of their sweetness have disappeared, because the mother Earth took them with herself: their blond hairs were not seen anymore under the snows of winter or the delight of summer; because the mother Earth has taken them into her entrails.
The days of my sweet love I've spent by the river Narcea, in unknown corner for the men, except one.
The long-misty days of summer our sweetness, loving eternal was, and only that river can feed the mirror of my soul, because now I cannot love.
Some time now that escaping I've lost my way, the way to my forest lost I have, strange creature, my brother from over the hills and far away."
The cuélebre kept a long silence, while the rumours of the river were background for the mild glory of the summer afternoon.
And so the afternoon was passing by, while both, the cuélebre and the xane, were being secretly observed as well.
And so the afternoon was passing by, slowly, like a whisper of love amongst two obscurities.
Like our life itself.
.
