.
It scares me, Sweet Lord, this brutal jet
of sweetness, it scares
me. This house gives me a perfect
wholeness, a perfect sense of knowing
where not to be.
Let us not go in. It scares me, this
minute by minute retracing
of my steps, over destroyed bridges.
Sweet Lord, I can't
continue. Brave sad skeleton singer.
It's what's inside the haunted house, the deadly
quicksilver, that seals
my veins with lead
in the arid afternoon.
The jet doesn't know how we
can go on. It terrifies me. Valor but
a memory, I do not continue. Sad ruby
red skeleton, just whistle, just whistle.
of sweetness, it scares
me. This house gives me a perfect
wholeness, a perfect sense of knowing
where not to be.
Let us not go in. It scares me, this
minute by minute retracing
of my steps, over destroyed bridges.
Sweet Lord, I can't
continue. Brave sad skeleton singer.
It's what's inside the haunted house, the deadly
quicksilver, that seals
my veins with lead
in the arid afternoon.
The jet doesn't know how we
can go on. It terrifies me. Valor but
a memory, I do not continue. Sad ruby
red skeleton, just whistle, just whistle.
César Vallejo: Trilce (XXVII), 1922, trans. TC
Waterspouts in the Bahamas Islands: photo by NOAA, n.d.
Tornado waterspout near Cape Formentor, Mallorca: photo by Julian Kupfer, 2006
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