La leve pisada del demonio nocturno / César Moro

The Light Step of the Nocturnal Demon

In the great contact of oblivion
Certainly dead
Trying to steal reality from you
By the deafening rumor of the real
I lift a statue of such pure mud
Of clay of my blood
Of lucid shadow of intact hunger
Of interminable panting
And you rise like an unknown star
With your hair of black sparks
With your rabid and indomitable body
With your breath of wet stone
With your crystal head
With your ears of drowsiness
With your lantern lips
With your fern tongue
With your saliva of magnetic fluency
With your rhythm nostrils
With your fire tongue feet
With your legs of thousands of petrified tears
With your eyes of a nocturnal leap
With your tiger teeth
With your veins of violin arc
With your orchestra fingers
With your nails to open the heart of the world
And predict the loss of the world
In the heart of dawn
With your warm forest armpits
Under the rain of your blood
With your elastic lips of carnivorous plant
With your shadow that intercepts the noise
Nocturnal demon
This is how you rise forever
Stomping on the world that ignores you
And loves your name without knowing it
And moans after the smell of your step
Of fire of sulfur of air of tempest
Of intangible catastrophe that diminishes each day
That portion in which are hidden nefarious designs and the suspicion
     that twists the mouth of the tiger who spits in the mornings to
     make the day

La tortuga ecuestre (1938-1939)

{ César Moro, La tortuga ecuestre y otros textos, ed. Julio Ortega, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 1976 }

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