PATAGONIAN LANDSCAPES
The seafoam, endless, thick, so I couldn’t find
10
the line where the sea dashed its wave at me.
14
The land I came to doesn’t have spring:
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it has its long night, in which I find no mother.
12
The wind at my house makes its round of laments
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and howling; breaks, like a mirror, my shout.
10
And in the white prairies, the infinite horizon,
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I gaze at the dying of immense sorrowful sunsets.
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What to call her, she who has come
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so far that only the dead have gone further?
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The dead, so alone, study an ocean hushed and grow stiff,
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frozen the arms of the dead, in the arms of those they love.
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The ships whose sails fly white in the harbor
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come from lands where my loved ones never have been;
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their bright-eyed men don’t know my rivers
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and bring forth pale fruits without the light of my orchards.
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And the question that rises in my throat
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upon seeing them pass, falls, conquered:
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they speak strange tongues and are not moved
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by the words that my ancient mother sings in lands of gold.
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I watch the snow as if the dust of graves;
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I watch the mist form and grow like death throes,
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and so as not to go mad I don’t count the seconds,
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because the long night now so lonely begins.
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I watch the entraptured prairie, gather to me its pain,
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I that came to see the mortal lands.
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The snow is the semblance that appears in my mirror;
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its whiteness will ever be, ever under the heavens!
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Ever, she, grandly silent, like the lofty gaze
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of God upon me; ever her bridal wreath laid over my house;
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ever, like a fate that never fades nor comes to pass,
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she will descend to cover me, terrible and ecstatic.
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Análisis métrico
32
Versos
12.5
Media silábica
400
Sílabas totales