THE OUTING Poem by Luis Vidales

The sky shimmers between the trees.
The trees imagine
they are on the shore of a violet lake.
We noticed the deceit
and with loud voices drove the trees away
as if they were
some green birds
that would have hidden
their other leg
in their plumage.

When we return home
the top hat of the night
begins to be idle on my head.

We go arm in arm
- a significant monogram
we have not been able to decipher.

In my pupil on the side of the landscape
I wear the monocle of the moon.

The dream increases its volume
through the lens.

If you want to dream
and you need a tonic
turn around the cup of the sky
and drink the blue!

You listen to me.
You open your pale eyes.
And all of you - little one -
stays curled up
behind your pale eyes.