VI. So farewell! . . . Yonder, austere and dark

So farewell! . . . Yonder, austere and dark,
you retreat across the sun-scorched plain,
and all down your shoulders your ardent tresses,
verberating, like a malediction.

In my desolation what awaits me? . . .
—already I scarce can see your dragging skirt—
a drifting down of spring’s young foliage
and endless longing for emerald past and gone.

The human cataclysm has destroyed
my heart and all expires that it holds . . .
perish memory and oblivion perish!

I glimpse you still and already forget your brow;
your back alone alas! I see, as that
is seen which flees eternity and recedes.

Manuel José Othón



There’s no moon—
last night, I came here
driving a horse.