"Nocturne: Dream"


Xavier Villaurrutia

To Jules Supervielle

I opened the rooms

deep in the dream

and thin voices

carried on the wind


From the barque of heaven

of the ruled paper

fell the scale

where my body

went down

The sky on the ground

like in a mirror;

the restless street

bent my words.

I stole my shadow,

the closed shadow.

In the quiet of silence

I heard that my steps

had passed.

The cold of the steel

in my blind hand

armed with his dagger.

To give me death,

death was waiting

And when the corner was turned

in a long second

my steely hand

found my back

Without a drop of blood

Without noise or weight

my nailed feet

came to deliver my body

I took it by arms

I took it to my bed

I closed my wings

deep in the dream.

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