Azucena / José Antonio Ramos Sucre

White Lily

The solitary one entertains his glance through the sky in a lull from his despair. He thanks the effluvium of a planet inspiring himself in a few lines from the Divine Comedy. He recognizes, from the roof, the premonition of a languid morning.
     Fear has demolished grandeur and obstructed the doors and windows of his lucid home. A rider with an immobile mask faithfully returns from an unreal journey, amid the darkness, on top of a horse with a thick hulk, and he rests in an inviolable garden, seat of boredom. Sinister blue flowers, resembling the flabella of a remote liturgy, obfuscate the air, infiltrate delirium.
     The solitary one hears the fabric of his coffin in a secret of the Earth, dominion of evil. Death takes on the semblance of Beatrice in a chaotic dream of her troubadour.
     A maiden appears amidst the tenuous clouds, armed with the unconquered javelin, and captivates the glance of the solitary one. She arrives on the birth of the day of rewards, after the agonizing Friday, announced by a white elk, student of the celestial spring.

El cielo de esmalte (1929)

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

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