El venturoso / José Antonio Ramos Sucre

The Fortunate One

     I left, at the forbidden hour, the solar temple and ran ahead beyond the tower crowned with a star, emblem and souvenir of Hercules.

     I went in service of a woman who had fainted on the shore of an immobile sea with black waters, where an extravagant red glow was foundering. She wore the crown of penitential violets and was asking aloud for the relief of sleep. She disappeared leaving in my hands her garb of lunar gauze.

     I had lost the road to return and followed the steps of a wildcat enraged in the pursuit of a pheasant.

     I came across a wild place and found grace among a few magnanimous hunters. They were fighting the elephant with swords and spears, assisted by some dogs of the breed marveled at by Alexander, conqueror of the Persians. One of them is enough to strangle a lion.

     I easily adopted their customs. They called themselves favorites of the sun and the men closest to where it’s born.

     I have reached the point of presiding over their religion’s only ceremony. At dawn they lift a chorus of laments in memory of the Aurora’s son, sacrificed by Achilles.

Las formas del fuego (1929)

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

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