Ofelia / José Barroeta

Ophelia

The queen is dead.
From a mystical hill
the water descends, surrounding the night.
The queen of water and of the heart
lies lost in the black foliage,
damp from the dead dew.
The leaves are skies spread out
on the water
and she, the queen,
floats dead with her dead throne.
The harmony of that green in her eyes
is dying fervently today,
returning to its origin, its first shade.




Arte de anochecer (1975)




{ José Barroeta, Todos han muerto: Poesía completa (1971-2006), Barcelona: Editorial Candaya, 2006 }