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La miniatura persa

Персидская миниатюра

Cuando termine el juego de escondite
que juega mi alma con la muerte inmensa
tal vez el creador la resucite
en forma de una miniatura persa.

Bajo el cielo ocre del amanecer
habrá un príncipe alzando, clandestino,
sus ojos almendrados para ver,
en el columpio, un rostro femenino;

habrá un emperador con una lanza
por un camino incierto y escarpado
que sigue en las alturas y no alcanza
al pequeño rebeco que ha escapado;

ni en los sueños ni en la realidad
se ven aquellos nardos opulentos
y por la tarde, en dulce intimidad,
se inclinan a la hierba los sarmientos;

y qué placer será llevar, tan pura
como nube en un pico tibetano,
en la otra cara de la miniatura
la firma de un magnífico artesano.

Un viejo de esmerada educación,
un cortesano, o acaso, un comerciante,
al verme me querrá sin dilación
con un amor tozudo y penetrante;

seré viento que sople en el sofoco
y alegraré su ocaso con fulgores,
e iré sustituyendo poco a poco
a amantes, amistades y licores.

Y de esta forma yo satisfaría,
sin gozo ni dolor desmesurados,
por una vez mi antigua fantasía:
causar admiración por todos lados.

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