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Under the chloroform’s dizzy spell,
Both the fish-tank gleam of a modern garden
And the yellowish smell of iodine
Make me shiver with an inner shriek.

Cubist, futurist and strident,
Amidst the feverish chaos of drowsiness,
The sensation hovers, only to vanish,
Of a green fly buzzing in my brow.

Pierces my nerves now, with delightful coldness,
A violin’s lunatic bow;
The transparent whirr of a B-flat

Trembles in the garden’s watery light,
And on sails my boat down the mighty river
That separates one boundary from another.


Ramón María del Valle-Inclán
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