Memoirs of a Wasteland's Rim
It still was light when she paused at the wasteland's rim- Over, the rim rest like a sleeping brute, a wooden frame Adjacent to the blue where early stars hung like oil lamps Hanging from old beams and shade?the wooden frame Her footing caught the beams, as she had fallen onto it Alone, she watched the forenoon, climbing around her A drifter woman, marked by life, and slanting dreams With appearance of hurt and molded muscle on her face Her figure etched against the wooden frame, She tried to jump, and lost her balance, hanging like a bird Now sipping the gloom in the ledge and shattered hopes She yielded before the sluggish advance of sunset Blood dripped, with her dying darkness And a crimson moon hurled a flame across The shadowy clouds, burning throughout the sky The tormented sky above her?
Crossing the valley's floor her eye gripped it Rocky images, highest points Thrusting herself up boldly from to the ledge The painted morning blushed over the rim Her brows and nose, face against the granite stone Massive injuries was taking form, Her silhouette floating so indolently across the sun It was too great a task-to die alone?she wished now She had not jumped?a thousand feet below, yet to go. Too much for any woman in a lost world Out of the weak wood her mind had peace; She knew soon it would all be over-alas Mute and protesting against life's uselessness A narrow path lay below her slender body Between death and attainment, a careless foot The rocks beneath her weakening, she plunged Plunged to her death, in the carving hands of the valley Thinking of it, as she fell, thinking with a smiled, Saying, looking up-dead before her echoes: 'Time is short?time is short?time is short!' When they found her, her face was unafraid of falling.
#808 8/20/05
In Spanish Translated by Nancy Penaloza
Las memorias del Borde de una Tierra des?rtica
Todav?a estaba iluminado cuando ella paus? en el borde de la tierra des?rtica- Sobre, el borde descansaba como un bruto durmiente, un marco de madera Adyacente hacia el azul donde estrellas ma?aneras colgadas como l?mparas de aceite, colgando desde viejos rayos y dando sombra? al marco de madera? Su equilibrio cogiendo los rayos, mientras ella hab?a ca?do sobre esto
Sola, ella mir? la ma?ana, subiendo hacia ella Una mujer trainera, marcada por la vida, y sue?os inclinados Con el aspecto de dolor y el m?sculo moldeado sobre su cara Su figura inclinada contra el marco de madera, Ella trat? de brincar, y perdi? el equilibrio, colgando como un p?jaro Ahora bebiendo a sorbos la penumbra en la repisa y esperanzas trastornadas
Ella cedi? antes del avance inactivo de la puesta del sol La Sangre gote?, con su oscuridad mortal
Y una luna carmes? lanz? una llama a trav?s De las nubes vagas, ardiendo en todas partes del cielo
El cielo atormentado encima de ella?
Cruzando el piso del valle su ojo agarr? esto
Im?genes rocosas, lo m?s altos puntos. Desde donde se empuj? ella con audacia hacia la repisa,
La ma?ana pintada ruborizada sobre el borde Sus frentes y nariz, de cara contra la piedra de granito,
Heridas masivas tomaban la forma, Su silueta flotando tan indolente a trav?s del sol
Esto fue demasiado una gran tarea - para morir sola?que ella dese? ahora
Ella no hab?a brincado?miles de pies abajo, a?n ir.
Demasiado para cualquier mujer en un mundo perdido
Fuera de la madera d?bil su mente ten?a paz; Ella sab?a que pronto todo esto estar?a sobre ?ay! Muda y protestando contra la inutilidad de la vida
Un camino estrecho descansa debajo de su cuerpo delgado Entre la muerte y el logro, un pie descuidado Las rocas debajo de su debilitamiento, ella se sumergi? Sumergida a su muerte, en las manos de talladura del valle
Pensando en ello, mientras ella se cay?, pensando con una sonrisa, Diciendo, alzando la vista-muerta ante sus ecos: "?El tiempo es corto, el tiempo es corto?. El tiempo es corto!"
Cuando ellos la encontraron, su cara estaba sin miedo a la ca?da.
*808 8/20/05
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