La zarza de los médanos / José Antonio Ramos Sucre

The Bramble on the Dunes

The country of my childhood was afflicted by a penitential aridity.
     I was suffering the ascendancy of a washed-out sky and discerning the profile of a mystical tower.
     The sober mountains with recondite peaks were preferring November’s cloak. The souls of the deceased, according to the thought of a pusillanimous creature, would retreat into their shyness, follow the vicissitudes of a perplexed river and fly on the ocean breeze.
     We would conquer the fear of the visionary nights throughout the highlands, in the swift carriage. Some wilted reeds were interrupting the flight of the wheels and the indolent moon was pouring the enchantment of its silver nuances into a circle.
     The infantile creature, object of my grief, loved in a fervid manner some balsamic flowers, of sidereal origin, imbued in the salty air. She was living in suspense of death’s announcement and was demanding them for her tomb. I have defended the wild leaves from the assault of the sands.
     The sea flooded its limits to cover the unfortunate shore. A mute and transparent shadow guided the skiff of my health to the kingdom of dawn, towards unequivocal happiness. I was waking from enchanted dreams and perceiving in the air of the lodgings the effluvium of the fragrant undergrowth.

El cielo de esmalte (1929)

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

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