Night Scream

by

Xavier Villaurrutia



I am afraid of my voice

and I seek my shadow in vain.

Will that shadow be mine

without body--what is happening?

And mine the lost voice--

What is the street setting on fire?

What voice, what shadow, what waking dream I have not dreamed

will be the voice and the shadow

and the dream that was stolen from me?

To hear the blood flow

of my closed heart--

Will I put my ear to my chest

like the hand takes the pulse?

My chest will be empty

and I disheartened,

and my hands will be hard

pulses of frozen marble.



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