La juventud del rapsoda / José Antonio Ramos Sucre

The Youth of the Rhapsodist

I lived happily amidst a rustic people. Their origins were lost in an unformed antiquity.
     They were delirious from jubilance at the full moon instant. The ancestors had insisted on the horror of the early world, before the satellite’s birth.
     A young woman presided over the children occupied in the task of the vintage. She had pulled away from dawn’s retinue, on a horse with a blonde mane. She held on to them by means of an unlikely story and she purposely differed from its denouement.
     She would choose the hyacinth to decorate her black hair, with its blue reflection. I would also adore the sick flower of a kiss from Eurydice at a moment of her desperation.
     I forced myself to conjecture and discover her name and origin when I became aware of her penchant for the austere flower. The young woman enjoyed the privilege of returning from the dead, for the purpose of attending the liturgical honors of the wine. She disappeared in the act of evading my insinuating questions.

El cielo de esmalte (1929)

{ José Antonio Ramos Sucre, Obra completa, Caracas: Biblioteca Ayacucho, 1989 }

No comments: