El extranjero / José Antonio Ramos Sucre

The Foreigner

He had resolved to hide for suffering. He was at leisure in a sepulchral house, asylum of the decadent moss and the senile mushroom. A useless lamp was signifying idleness.
     He had renounced the scruples of civilization and considered it an image of softness. He was resting audaciously in the open air, amid prehensile grass.
     He was insinuating the image of a primary being, an attempt or delirium of life in a torrential season. His muddy hair and beard seemed altered with the sediment of a lacustrine refuge.
     He would dress in flowers and leaves to celebrate the vicissitudes of the sky, culminating ephemeris in the rustic calendar.
     He would entertain himself with the thought of returning to the heart of the Earth and losing himself in its darkness. He would prepare for nakedness in the indistinct pit by throwing himself into nature’s fates, receiving in his person the elusive summer rain. He ceased to exist on a day in November, month of the silhouettes.




El cielo de esmalte (1929)




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