El valle del éxtasis / José Antonio Ramos Sucre

The Valley of Ecstasy

I lived perplexed discovering the ideas and habits of the furtive wizard. I established his relationship and similarity to the Irish musicians, brought together at court by an honorable invitation from Charlemagne. One of those apparitors had deposited an artistic gospel in the hands of the deceased emperor when the burial was held.
     The furtive wizard never stopped honoring the memory of his daughter and between his fingers he weighed the crown of pearls of her forehead. The maiden had been born with the privilege of visiting the world at a winged pace. Death captivated her in a net of air, an artifice for hunting birds, armed in the heights. Her progenitor had baptized her in the sea, following a schismatic rule, and he never reached his goal of communicating to her the invulnerability of a shining paladin.
     The wizard played a prelude on his bagpipes, in celebration of his daughter’s name, a warrior ballad in the nighttime serenity and from that same luck he was marking the arrival of the swallow in the wet winds of March.
     The dream voice inspired his whim of beautifying the final days of his terrestrial time with the presence of a fabulous jewel, in imitation of Eucharistic gentlemen. He said goodbye to me with a warning of his hope to gather at the foot of an invisible tree the zafir cup of Teodolinda, a Lombardian queen.

El cielo de esmalte (1929)

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

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