The Branch of the Sibyl
The song of health flies over the cheerful sea, rises to the opal sky. It serves to distinguish the moments of the maneuver. Neither the spokesman nor the laconic command are required.
I have said goodbye to the vestiges of an unfortunate vision upon incorporating myself to the night’s lap. An immortal voice had insinuated in my ears the canorous verse by Virgil, to describe for me the shipwreck of a helmsman conquered by sleep.
I reconstructed the details of the episode when I awoke and returned to my accord. I immediately recognized the coast where the shipwrecked sailor was sacrificed once he emerged alive.
I had within reach an olive branch, the mystical and virtuous tree. I submerged it in the livid waters and shook it over my indifferent companions.
El cielo de esmalte (1929)
{ José Antonio Ramos Sucre, Obra completa, Caracas: Biblioteca Ayacucho, 1989 }
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