There’s a circle that shrouds me
There’s a circle that shrouds me and leaves my body trapped. Far off maybe day breaks. People might think insistently of their daily affairs. The circle is closing. I think of the first slopes, of those humid stones. I remember distant shouts and the hidden roads. The dew is falling on the grass of then. I have forgotten the beginnings. I have forgotten the places. Only this circle tightens around me. Maybe it’s already midday. The sun is probably at its peak celebrating its glare. I’m fixed here in the dark locked in this circle.
{ Antonia Palacios, Ese oscuro animal del sueño, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 1991 }
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