El resfrío / José Antonio Ramos Sucre

The Cold

     I have read in my childhood the memories of an artist of the violoncello, deceased far from her homeland, in the coldest spot on the globe. I have seen the image of the sepulcher in a book of stamps. An iron gate defends the accumulation of stones and the Byzantine cross. A hasty gust pours rain in the solitude.

     The heroine reposes from a consecutive gallop, fright of the vile fox. The horse was about to perish in the flexible ties of a forest, in the inert mud.

     The artist threw from her horse to the sordid Chinese river an ivory cup, held by means of a catch and consumed at the beginning of the cholera in the clumsy lymph. They have captured and consumed some fish that taste like dirt. The heroine used in a preferential mode the distinguished ivory, material of Roldan’s oliphant.

     A sulphur sun was traveling along the floor in the atmosphere of a distant desert of sand and a sharp whistle, messenger of invisible darkness, spread a shadow of terror on the immense riverbed.

El cielo de esmalte (1929)

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

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