From Eternity
Under the shade of that
millenary tree, eccentric,
taciturn and feeble,
with wrinkled skin,
he looked toward the immensity.
The music of the spheres
dropped to what could
be men, errant,
whose qualities dared
decipher the future. Nothing
could be done in this sense.
The future was a fate
that never let itself be deciphered.
Falling in their own traps
were the majority of human
beings, simple,
who were thus anxious.
The dreams of fate were
different and diverse
in their nature. We could never
know anything
about our voluble and fickle life.
An enormous wing of silence
was moving through the heads
of men. A somber
peace then appeared
over them, among us.
They were merely dreams seeking,
among men,
their immortality. Despite
that, there were shades
wrapped in their coat
fluttering backwards,
on the other side of the moon.
An unknown and variegated eye
observed him, fixed,
from eternity.
Francisco Pérez Perdomo (Boconó, 1930 - Caracas, 2013)
{ Francisco Pérez Perdomo, Eclipse, Edición de autor: Caracas, 2008 }
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