The Dead City, and: The Wolf Man

62 the minnesota review Marina Arrate The Dead City This is the mirror ruin of a city tottering between the fateful sound of prudish waters and the crimson splendor of rigid buildings. I go galloping and flaming atop my dead ships, so, who was there that could not say that I was not already a ghost? Ah, Virgin! constant companion. With her I bowed down to the absurd place and kissing her hands forever, I contemplated the form of time corroding the tomb. —tr. ESB The Wolf Man Once I was a wolf and howled in the interminable night together with my brothers and sisters. Beneath the blind and yearning moon I ran after the prey and our steps were a muted galloping on the bed of the forest. In my flanks I felt the panting of my brothers and banging my snout into the others' flanks. Moist, breathy, the skin, the hair, the sweat of the chase turned me into a gorged and murderous wolf. And my fangs, ivory, were the pride of the pack. —tr. ESB ...