Its Voice Is a Long Tunnel
Its voice is a long tunnel
that crosses the ages
and communicates the extremes.
At its dark points
old skeletons phosphoresce,
bolts suddenly open
and you can often hear
the birds of death ululate.
From its peaks of darkness
decayed moans now descend,
chains grinding in the night,
the whistling of serpents
that reverse time
and make the hours dance.
So the past and the future
alternate with no transition,
move in their immobility
and exacerbate their infinite circle.
El sonido de otro tiempo (1991)
{ Francisco Pérez Perdomo, El hilo equívoco de los vocablos. Antología poética, Caracas: Monte Ávila Editores, 2014 }
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