Francisco Luis Bernárdez

(1900-1978 / Buenos Aires)

Soneto interior

Aquí donde la tierra es menos tierra,
Donde el agua es el agua del olvido,
Donde el aire es un aire sin sonido
Y donde el fuego ya no mueve guerra;

Aquí donde la tierra se destierra,
Donde el agua carece de sentido,
Donde el aire prefiere estar dormido
Y donde el fuego su pasión encierra;

El hombre de mirada pensativa
Substituye las cosas de su casa;
La tierra, con su carne fugitiva,

El aire, con el aire de su aliento,
El agua, con su propio sentimiento,
El fuego, con el fuego que lo abrasa.

Submitted: Saturday, May 24, 2014

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