Bajo el cielo monótono / José Antonio Ramos Sucre

Under the Monotonous Sky

In my early years, I followed the path of Shakespeare’s imagination. From the frigate, I could make out a few windmills, dissipated in the liquid atmosphere.
     The storks were resting in the towers and lanterns of a church.
     Popular devotion conferred upon them naive advantages and privileges. They had denounced the lack of hospitality for the Virgin Mary from the gypsies who were expected on the roads where people would make pilgrimages for her, executing an immemorial vengeance.
     I interned myself, after disembarking, in a jungle of ash trees and a branch furiously scratched my face. At that instant the insomniac owl of the regicidal night had just flown off, as my guide and confidant, a benevolent old man, immediately clarified for me. I found less of its presence when I came out onto a field of flowers of light.
     I retreated in demand of the first neighborhood and a woman with loose hair and an inspired forehead described for me the signs of my protector. She had died on an ancient date and her apparition augured happiness. She would only appear for children.

El cielo de esmalte (1929)

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

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