“Unseduced by worldy pleasures, I returned by chance to solitude, much before the end of my youth. I withdrew to my native city, removed from progress, among the dead. Since then I have not left this mansion’s shadow. Behind the house flows a thin river of ink, saved from the light by a spot of trees, torn by a furious wind, born of the driest mountain. An oxen cart passes slowly across the deserted road in front of the house, an imitation of an Etruscan country scene.”
– José Antonio Ramos Sucre, “Life of the Damned”
tr. Cedar Sigo & Sara Bilandzija
5 Poems (Santa Cruz, CA: Blue Press, 2008)
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