The sad juggler


Horacio Quiroga


The bell rings dead

In the long avenues

And the long avenues

Awaken things of the dead.

In the orchard of apple trees

Suicide rings,

And there is blood from the wounds

Of a dog running from the garden.

In the desert pavilion

The violets are asleep;

The violets are asleep

In the desert pavilion!

And the sore violets

In the desert pavilion,

Where he sings of the mistake of

His most accomplished victories,

They open my old wounds,

Like bells for the dead,

Old violets asleep

In the desert pavilion.


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