At the anonymous tomb of Herrera y Reissig in the cemetery of Mo

A bulge of emeralds, light, an aberration,
a cyst of dawn, a wandering pagoda,
a shrine engulfed by death, immersed in water,
inflame the cypress tree of your creation.

The phosphor of the deep, the animation
of anemones above your skull, the slaughter,
a bald blue spot of your baptism and what a
fine crown is woven by vibration.

No Salambo will come with frozen honey,
nor carbuncle of gold, the senseless mass 
would soothe your voice with lily and with money.

Hypnotic concert, whisper-quiet breath
and a lagoon disturbed but bright and sunny,
breeze on your winding sheets of early death.

                * * *

En la tumba sin nombre de Herrera
y Reissig en el cementerio de Montevideo


Tumulo de esmeraldas y epentismo
como errante pagoda submarina,
ramos de muerte y alba de sentina
pollen loco el cipres de tu lirismo,

anemonas con fosforo de abismo
cubren tu calavera marfilina,
y el aire teje una guirnalda fina
sobre la calva azul de tu bautismo.

No llega Salambo de miel helada
ni postumo carbunclo de oro yerto
que salitro de lis tu voz pasada.

Solo un rumor de hipnotico concierto,
una laguna turbia y disipada,
soplan entre tus slibanas de muerto.

[1934]