LA ÁNFORA DE PANDORA, LOCIONES Y UNGÜENTOS
“¿Quién”, rumié, “andará rozando con sus feos labios agrietados su, oh, tan largo y elegante cuello? ¿Dónde, Pretty Girl, hija,
The artist
“¿Quién”, rumié, “andará rozando con sus feos labios agrietados su, oh, tan largo y elegante cuello? ¿Dónde, Pretty Girl, hija,
“Who”, I mused, “brushes, with their cracked ugly lips, her oh so long and elegant neck now? Where Pretty
“…Míralos, mira al artista conceptual, a los intelectuales, tan elocuentes, a los dignatarios…” “…El Artista…Que lo tiene todo explicado
Continue readingAUTORETRATO DE UN ARTISTA AUSENTE (EL SÍNDROME DE ASCHENBACH)
Delicate, your body to succour, I smelt you; I smelt every intimate smell of you because I had smelt you,
How long has it been, Pretty Girl, since you emptied the house of your secrets, its secrets, packed them all
The King of the Dying Years sang to himself, for he was dying more gloriously than anyone else could possibly