Treasure Island

Ramon Lopez Velarde

(1888-1921 / Mexico)

A Mi Prima Agueda


A Jesús Villalpando


Mi madrina invitaba a mi prima Agueda
A que pasara el día con nosotros,
Y mi prima llegaba
Con un contradictorio
Prestigio de almidón y de temible
Luto ceremonioso.


Agueda aparecía, resonante
De almidón, y sus ojos
Verdes y sus mejillas rubicundas
Me protegían contra el pavoroso
Luto…

Yo era rapaz
Y conocía la o por lo redondo,
Y Agueda que tejía
Mansa y perseverante en el sonoro
Corredor, me causaba
Calosfríos ignotos…
(Creo que hasta le debo la costumbre
heroicamente insana de hablar solo.)

A la hora de comer, en la penumbra
Quieta del refectorio,
Me iba embelesando un quebradizo
Sonar intermitente de vajilla
Y el timbre caricioso
De la voz de mi prima.
Agueda era
(luto, pupilas verdes y mejillas
rubicundas) un cesto policromo
de manzanas y uvas
en el ébano de un armario añoso.

Submitted: Monday, September 06, 2010

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