Juan Antonio Santos | Traductor |
H. P. Lovecraft | Escritor |
XVII. A Memory
There were great steppes, and rocky table-lands
Stretching half-limitless in starlit night,
With alien campfires shedding feeble light
On beasts with tinkling bells, in shaggy bands.
Far to the south the plain sloped low and wide
To a dark zigzag line of wall that lay
Like a huge python of some primal day
Which endless time had chilled and petrified.
I shivered oddly in the cold, thin air,
And wondered where I was and how I came,
When a cloaked form against a campfire's glare
Rose and approached, and called me by my name.
Staring at that dead face beneath the hood,
I ceased to hope - because I understood.
▲Volumen▼ | ▲Editorial▼ | ▲Año▼ |
---|---|---|
Hongos de Yuggoth y otros poemas fantásticos | Valdemar | 2010 |
Hongos de Yuggoth y otros poemas fantásticos | Valdemar | 1994 |
Hongos de Yuggoth | Valdemar | 1988 |