(In San Mateo del Mar men fish by tying the
corners of their nets to kites which are suspended
by the strength of the wind)

Kite tied to it's net,
pursued patient of the moon
kite without thread between the waves
breeze's lover that imprisons.

You were made centuries ago
by children who saw birds
purely devoted to the wind.

Staring at you there
fuelled by the foam's song,
beautiful brother of the salt
I know why you search your lovers in the air.