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  AN URBAN APPARITION

Did he spring from beneath the earth?
Did he fall off the sky?
There he was amidst the sound,
Wounded,
Badly injured,
Still,
In silence,
Fallen to his knees,
Facing the inevitable,
His veins cleaving
To fright,
To asphalt,
His long mane hanging loose,
His saintly eyes,
Naked, stark naked,
So white he was almost blue.

They maintain it was a horse.
I believe he was an angel.

autógrafo
Oliverio Girondo
Oliverio Girondo
Translation by Irina Urumova y Juan Ribó Chalmeta


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