The Vespertine Error
Some wild horsemen were escorting me during the visit to the country of legendary ruins. We stopped to marvel at the arabesques and profiles of a bridge with lancet arches.
We invaded the fateful city along an avenue of violated cypresses. I was in ecstasy from the atmosphere of purity, within view of a sky with ideal tinges. The image of a shining minaret was being drawn on the river of indolent lymphs.
I was making progress, pilgrim of disenchantment, in the implausible calm.
A nuptial entourage, proclaimed by the sounds of a sensible melody, woke me from the reverie, returned me to the presence of misfortune. The girl was heading towards captivity in a rough carriage.
I tried to follow the subtle vestiges of the entourage by the light of the ether twilight and found myself alone and blind in the circuit of some identical tombs.
El cielo de esmalte (1929)
{ José Antonio Ramos Sucre, Obra completa, Caracas: Biblioteca Ayacucho, 1989 }
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