Antonio Justel Rodriguez

WAR IN THE LIVING NIGHT



[Prior tribute, personal and special, to Federico García Lorca
assassinated in Víznar, on August 19, 1936, at the age of 38]

… to the rhythm of bugles, where the afternoon is divine,
the dogs of hate climb the soul through its thresholds;

… sunsets of wicker, red, pink and lace,
they carry life burning towards a summit of blood;

... on the bed of the night, held by a thousand daggers,
the moon plays the dead without names or funerals;

[… the dogs bark and bark, anger asks them to bark,
udder of death is the sand, the screams belong to no one,
the vile scythe of the north wind snaps, mowing down the air;

cries of cold tongues, drunk with rage and hunger,
They run through the avenues of the heart after killing him]

... Father of full veins, Mother of the loving moon,
the son who is at war is the son of two Titans
who tempered his golden sword with diamond light!

… through the ravines of the sky panting dogs descend;
the dawn, like a virgin, perches in the holm oaks;
blackbirds of wax in my soul light it even if I keep quiet.
***
Antonio Justel Rodriguez
https://www.oriondepanthoeas.com
***
 

Toutes les droites appartiennent à son auteur Il a été publié sur e-Stories.org par la demande de Antonio Justel Rodriguez.
Publié sur e-Stories.org sur 08.08.2022.

 

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