a spectre

The man who was returning from the dead
approached me, and my heart stood cold,
trembling and mute…Neither did he speak,
the man who came back from
the dead…

He was as silent as stone… Yet
in his self-absorbed expression
there was the solemn dread of one who has looked
at a great enigma and becomes the bearer
of the message that the whole globe awaits…
The man who did not speak paused at my side.

And his face and mine came together,
and there arose in my heart a violent desire
to ask questions…But, little by little,
the questions froze on my lips…

The evening shook with a loud howl
of a hurricane…And step by step
the man who came back from the dead
disappeared into the half-light of the declining day…

Enrique González Martínez

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