De Profundis
I have traversed the magic palace of the dream. I have fatigued myself in vain trying to discover the vestige of a woman absent from this world. I desired to reestablish her within my thoughts.
I conserve my emotions of a suffering and dejected adolescent. Her beauty adorned a street of ruins. I would begin to appear at her window amid the darkness of dusk. She exceeded me by a few years and I hid my delirious passion from slanderers.
She stopped appearing on a night of fears and anguish and I remembered unsuccessfully the signs of her home. A storm was flowing through the immensity.
I went on to vent the indelible melancholy in an adventure, where my friends got lost and died. Dawn found me in the precincts of a church, a monument erected by a maiden from other centuries. The priest extolled the proof of his devotion and from the pulpit announced invariable threats. Afterward he celebrated the mass for the dead and filled my ears with the rumor of a sinister psalm.
El cielo de esmalte (1929)
{ José Antonio Ramos Sucre, Obra completa, Caracas: Biblioteca Ayacucho, 1989 }
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