To the South
If a certain gleam awaits me
I see the Southern constellations
A sky my eyes have covered a thousand times
Mirror of pride or terror
Murmuring faces in the shadows
Burnt stars
Some I no longer recognize
A long absence a sacred glance
Sonorous doubtful light
I go and see death shine
With a blind hand I close his eyes
His name was Juan
Sunny silex syllable
Subdued rivers thick frontiers
The earth was vaster for him than his dreams
He left the body his hands touched without sullying
The transparent elegy of sex
Solitude and passion
A more arduous flight and inhospitable air
Mother memorable madrepores
Ardent loyalty
I was allowed to know his radiant purity
I’m not bound to lament
I enter the prairie of my childhood
Which also belonged to your silence
Its glance dawns like a bird over the river
Promise of sun
Pollen I now disperse
Nothing is seen for the last time
Her eyes keep passing through my life
I see what I didn’t see yesterday
Burning streets walls that time doesn’t smooth
Though it calms us
City purified by stones
The waters bathe in nostalgia
The great rains are a house
In the lightning glow
Those elements were my only wisdom
Guillermo Sucre, La mirada (Caracas: Tiempo Nuevo, 1970)
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