Autobiographie d'un épouvantail by Boris Cyrulnik

By Boris Cyrulnik

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Virgin again, miraculously, by the absolving power of sleep, quiet and luminous like some happy thing recovered by memory, you will give me that shore of your life that you yourself do not own. Cast up into silence I shall discern that ultimate beach of your being and see you for the first time, perhaps, as God must see you— the fiction of Time destroyed, free from love, from me. [Robert Fitzgerald]  EL GENERAL QUIROGA VA EN COCHE AL MUERE El madrejón desnudo ya sin una sed de agua y una luna perdida en el frío del alba y el campo muerto de hambre, pobre como una araña.

Nos duele sostener esa luz tirante y distinta, que es una alucinación que impone al espacio el unánime miedo de la sombra y que cesa de golpe cuando notamos su falsía, como se desbarata un sueño cuando el soñador advierte que duerme.  AFTERGLOW Sunset is always disturbing whether theatrical or muted, but still more disturbing is that last desperate glow that turns the plain to rust when on the horizon nothing is left of the pomp and clamor of the setting sun. How hard holding on to that light, so tautly drawn and different, that hallucination which the human fear of the dark imposes on space and which ceases at once the moment we realize its falsity, the way a dream is broken the moment the sleeper knows he is dreaming.

AT THE BUTCHER’S Meaner than a house of prostitution the meat market flaunts itself in the street like an insult. Above the door the head of a steer in a blind-eyed stare watches over the witches’ Sabbath of flayed flesh and marble slabs with the aloof majesty of an idol. [Norman Thomas di Giovanni]  LLANEZA A Haydée Lange Se abre la verja del jardín con la docilidad de la página que una frecuente devoción interroga y adentro las miradas no precisan fijarse en los objetos que ya están cabalmente en la memoria.

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