On this one night, my clock, next to the altar
Darkened in the temple, balks, as black spreads,
Like a flip of an apple revolver
Whose trigger below cannot locate the lead.
Darkened in the temple, balks, as black spreads,
Like a flip of an apple revolver
Whose trigger below cannot locate the lead.
The moon, white coin, motionless, shows us tears,
And it is an eye that aims ... I am led
And it is an eye that aims ... I am led
To how the great Mystery is coined, here,
As a hostile and ovoid idea, in red.
Ah, the hand that limits, that threatens us
Behind every door, and that calibrates
All the clocks — hand it over, shadow, pass!
On the grey spider of your frame it starts,
Another great Hand made of light bears the weight
Another great Hand made of light bears the weight
Of a bullet in the blue shape of a heart.
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UNIDAD (1918)
En esta noche mi reloj jadea
junto a la sien oscurecida, como
manzana de revólver que voltea
bajo el gatillo sin hallar el plomo.
La luna blanca, inmóvil, lagrimea,
y es un ojo que apunta… Y siento cómo
se acuña el gran Misterio en una idea
hostil y ovoidea, en un bermejo plomo.
¡Ah, mano que limita, que amenaza
tras de todas las puertas, y que abierta
en todos los relojes, cede y pasa!
Sobre la araña gris de tu armazón,
otra gran Mano hecha de luz sustenta
un plomo en forma azul de corazón.
