From my Dad’s book Elementary motherland (Patria elemental).
Tasajero
It was placed north of the beautiful hill
so it could be seen from anywhere in the city.
The tempestuous flashes of the Catatumbo Lightning
tend to crown it and fog adorns it
in the rigour of summer.
It has guts of coal and oil foundations,
skin of rock and grey greens,
crossed by paths that the flocks of sheep
know very well.
The afternoon always takes place there.
And before the first shadow arrives,
the pyramid of its summit shines
with the twilight red of the deer’s sun.
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