WOMEN-BIRDS
It so happened that one afternoon I saw two stone curlews running.
They passed fast by my bower, singing: “leu, leu, leu, mah . . . leu, leu, leu, mah”.
There was a moon rising over the red repose of the sun . . . and
I saw them vanish on the road to the pool of Mariirop.
Already at night a dream happened in me . . . full of women-birds:
there was Jiet-Wüittüsü, the woman-bluebird, knitting with all the colours of time;
Jiet-Wawaachi, the woman-turtledove, called her children:
bring life here! bring life here!;
Jiet-Shotii, the woman-owl, lying in wait, with fire in her eyes,
for the desired man; Jiet-chünü’ü, the woman-humming bird, renewing the
flowers of forgotten dreams . . . and many birds and many women;
Jiet-Kaarai, the woman-stone-curlew, there, full of omens in each
beat of her heart; Jiet-wuluui, the woman-troupial, allotting the fresh water of laughter;
Jiet-lisho, the woman-cardinal, holding the surroundings in her ash-red wings.
On awakening I told my dream to my mother . . . and she smiled without looking at me:
“Aaa, she is a wainpirai . . . a woman-mockingbird!” . . . and since then
I have been discovering the hidden feathers of the women who warm us.