Todos, a sabiendas o no, llevamos una jitanjáfora escondida como alondra en el pecho.
REYES: Las Jitanjánforas (1929)
There are sounds we carry
Like hidden larks in our chest:
Larks that fly over underground streams.
But there’s a mystery in the noise of those streams,
As there is in a rattle,
In the tolling of bells,
In the clashing of two swords,
In the roaring beast
And in the fire’s pop and crackle.
Somewhere in those tunnels,
Those forgotten caves,
There’s an echo that still rumbles;
They are Lewis Carroll’s words:
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe…