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    THE SPIDER

It's an enormous spider that no longer walks,
a colorless spider, whose body,
a head and an abdomen, are bleeding.

Today I've watched her from up close. And with what effort
in all directions
she was stretching out her innumerable feet.
And I've been thinking of her invisible eys,
those fatal pilots of the spider.

It is a spider which was trembling, fixed
on a spur of rock;
the abdomen on one side,
and on the other the head.

With so many feet, poor thing, and still she can't
resolve it. And, on seeing her,
bewildered in such peril
today what sorrow she's given me, that traveler.

It's an enormous spider, held back
by the abdomen from following the head.
And I've been thinking of her eyes
and of her numerous feet...
And what sorrow she's given me, that traveler.

autógrafo

César Vallejo, 1918
Translated by Sandy McKinney


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