jueves, enero 26, 2006
Los dioses estan locos
The Will of the statue.
"I want to be alone at all costs," said the statue with the eternal view. Wind, wind refreshed my burning cheaks. And the battle began, terrible.
The shattered skulls fell and the brains bulged from it, polished as if it was ivory.
Flee, flee towards the plain and radiant city.
Behind, the demons wipped me with all might. My calfs were bleeding awfully. Oh sadness of the lonely statue down there. Bliss. And never the sun. Never the yellow comforter of the enlightened earth.
It loves its strange soul. It is conquered.
And now the sun stopped all above in the middle of the skies; and the statue in its happiness of eternity lost its soul in the contemplation of its shadow.
There is a room, which shutters are always closed. In a corner a book that nobody has read. At a wall a painting that one cannot look at without crying.
— GEORGE DE CHIRICO, 1912-1913 (reproduced to reflect the spelling given in the original)