Description

With her blurred eyes, she nears that sculptured hand

the hand that held the rudder

the hand that held the pen

the hand that spread open in the wind

her silence threatened by everything.

From the pine trees, a movement starts toward the sea

it plays with the humble breath of breeze

and two black Symplegades intercept it.

I opened my heart and breathed.

The golden fleece shivered in the sea.

The skin the color and the shudder were hers,

hers the mountain peaks on the horizon, on my palm.

I opened my heart

filled with images of the already vanished, sperm of Proteus.

Here I gazed at the moon

colored by the blood

of a young she-wolf.

                                          Spetches, August 1934

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