Translation:The Black Heralds (1918)/White Rose

by César Vallejo

 
I feel good. Now
a stoic ice shines
in me.
It makes me laugh this ruby
rope
grinding in my body.

Rope without end,
like a
spiral
descending
from
evil...
bloody and left-handed rope
formed by
a thousand daggers in support.

So be it, may it braid
its rolls of funeral ribbons;
and may it tie the trembling cat
of Fear to the frozen nest,
to the final stove.

Now I’m serene,
with light.
And meowing in my Pacific,
a shipwrecked coffin.