by César Vallejo
It’s a massive spider who can’t move;
a colorless spider, whose body—
a head and an abdomen—bleed.
Today I saw her up close. And with what effort
all along her flanks
her innumerable feet stiffened.
I have thought of her invisible eyes
the fatal pilots of the spider.
It’s a spider that trembled stuck
at the edge of a stone;
abdomen to one side,
to the other the head.
With so many feet the poor thing, she still can’t
work herself out. When seeing her,
stunned in some trance,
what grief this traveler gave me today.
An enormous spider who blocks
the abdomen from following the head.
I’ve thought about her eyes,
considered her numerous feet...
What grief this traveler’s given me today.
Last updated July 27, 2022