Amarrado a su sombra... / Emilio Adolfo Westphalen

Tied to its shadow...

Tied to its shadow the forest
Made way for the burning steps
Several fauns were carrying the creeks
A flute was playing in the antlers of the moon
The nymph on the slope was resting her arm
Summers of floral graces
Were weaving and unraveling the breezes
In the temples of the sleeping beauty
As if two children were playing with it
The world turned so many times
From one set of hands to others it was seen frequented
Of worms with top hats and dignity
The rivers wouldn’t dare
Touch the edge of the cities
From afar they would sing them and in a low voice
So as to not break the calm of the ramparts
Or disturb in the precinct
The clearest voice of the troubadours
There the sleeping beauty would appear covered in suns
Her burning steps would measure the floor as much as the sky
An olive tree shade under the eyes
Murmurs of water for hands
In the seas the eyes would always float
And this branch of laurel from horizon to horizon
Clinging to dreams raised from the sky
You haven’t seen a smile spin a landscape
The girl laughs with the sky spilling from her hands
Her eyelashes would give me more shade
Than a grove under the triple weight
Of leaves winds and skies
You haven’t seen a dawn open up
Over snows like a fountain
Lighting the sun and stars
A hand clearer than water and with its murmur
In this manner I’ve been run through from morning to night
By the frozen music the steel fingers
With new fringes her face wouldn’t rest
Now on the dahlia or the snowdrift
Now in the breeze or in the very heart of winter
And in the other hand the scepter of summer
And in the other foot the sun of autumn
The glances charged with gleams of sunny oceans
Crossing the Mediterranean the dolphins were rising
The turtles incrusted in the airs
The girl hadn’t woken yet
The flower was filling the spaces

Abolición de la muerte (1935)

{ Emilio Adolfo Westphalen, Otra imagen deleznable..., México DF: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1980 }

No comments: