César Vallejo

“ The road turns blue, the river barks...
It lowers itself, this forehead, sweaty and cold,
ferocious and deformed. The broken pommel
of a humanicidal sword falls!
And the scraggy holy valley of gold,
the ember of sweat extinguishes in a cry!
There remains an odor of time cultivated with verses,
for shoots of consecrated marble that would inherit
the golden song
of the lark that rots in my heart!
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content. ”