Translation:The Black Heralds (1918)/The Distant Steps

by César Vallejo

 
My father is sleeping. His august demeanor
represents a gentle heart;
he is so sweet now...
and if anything in him is bitter, it must be me.

There’s solitude in the home, he prays
and there is no news from the children today.
My father awakens, sounding
the flight to Egypt, the healing farewell.
He’s now so close;
and if anything is far from him, it must be me.

And my mother walks over there in the gardens
savoring a taste now without taste.
She’s now so soft,
such a wing, such an exit, such love.

There’s solitude in the home without quarrels,
without news, without greenery, without childhood.
And if this evening anything is shattered
and descends and rustles,
it is the two white paths, curved.
Through them my heart goes on foot.