H.P. Lovecraft
There are men who address only his shadow
And fasten on the moon of hyacinth
Gifts of clear light, of an extinct color,
Nothing but fearsome names.
The carpet, winding in its course,
Fills an enclosure with its arabesques.
There is no one here. I am here. I am no different than
The king who creates prodigies and is astonished.
To a sad Mars in his chlamys of ammonia
The Deadly Inhabitor sends his cold
Mandate, which is an angel or a demon.
I have lost something, without having been its owner:
A phantasm perhaps, a pallor of summer
Dissolves in the ambience of my dream.
from his wonderful story, "La Herencia de Cthulhu" ("The Legacy of Cthulhu") available in the original Spanish here.
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