Dionisiana / José Antonio Ramos Sucre

Dionisiana

I went up to the overlook to celebrate an interview with Célimène at the start of the day. She was an equal to Homer’s queens due to her ability in the design and execution of ornamental fabrics. She awoke the memory of Alcinous’s wife amidst her docile maids.
     She was smiling in the virgin light of morning. She wore her hair loose over her green satin suit, in which a few false stones completed the imitation of a noted dress belonging to Anne of Austria in the romance of the musketeers.
     The same color repeated itself in the mantle of the pasture, where chance had disseminated the gladiolas required for the crown of a fluvial god. The spot, free from threat, could have served as a scene for an afflicted maiden’s walk in the course of a pastoral novel. A white horse suggested the case of an educated groom.
     I was discoursing on the history of the exemplary lovers and their unfortunate end. The woman’s semblance and the isolated and superior place were restoring the hour of a heraldic century and suggested the frenetic duo of a queen and her entourage.
     Célimène was denying herself the unpleasantness of tragedy, she was turning her mind toward the seductions of the Venetian past and would add them to the festive reality, from which she had exiled thoughts of evil and death. She was proposing to remove from oblivion and leave for the most distant future generations the image of her naked beauty, in the manner of a heroine from Titian.




Las formas del fuego (1929)




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