Lied / José Antonio Ramos Sucre


The hawthorns fill the hollow, from the ruined portico.
     They weave their branches in a sinister manner, figuring crowns of martyrdom.
     The lady of the white deer gives herself over to song, when she feels the lunar magic around her.
     The burlesque echo augurs death from the thicket.
     No one could speak the dread of the white deer.
     Until that moment there had been no singing in the deserted mansion.

La torre de Timón (1925)

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

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