Los herejes / José Antonio Ramos Sucre

The Heretics

     The maiden leans out to see the fields, to interrogate a tremulous distance. Her mind suffers the vision of the riders of extermination, described in the pages of Revelation and in a commentary of black stamps.

     The popular voice decants the rain of blood and the eclipse and warns of the similitude with marvels of years past, contemporary to King Lear.

     A captain, surly and insolent with his king, fixes the campaign tent, of crimson silk, amidst the ruins. The soldiers, the devils of war, reveal the soot from the fire or from hell on their arid complexion and red hair. A schemer, usurper of the Harlequin suit, persuades them to licentiousness and supplies them with pinchbeck and paper coins.

     The maiden moves the crowds away from the enemies, spending her nights in prayer. They retreat in front of an indelible undergrowth, after vainly exhausting themselves in the aperture of a trail. The blow of their irons could find no seat and was lost in the emptiness.

El cielo de esmalte (1929)

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

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