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The Lost continent of

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Abstraction is selective ignorance

Andrew Koenig

First Love

Froylan Turcios

The fifteen-year-old virgin that had never loved, questioned, one scarlet afternoon a taciturn man about certain matters of the soul. She asked him more with her profound gaze than with her florid lips.

"Love is divine rapture. It is supreme anguish, an exquisite delicacy. To love is to suffer, to know in your spirit tempests of grief and joy. It is to live a dream saturated with sorrow and perfume. It is to dream of sweet things at the hour of dawn, and of strange in the quiet hours of the night. It is to have constantly upon your pupils the image of your beloved, and in all that be the glorious essence of her charm."

She gazed at him, smiling mysteriously.

He continued: "I do not know what a woman might think and feel, but I imagine that in you the sensations are deeper and more subtle."

"You speak of sadness and suffering," she exclaimed, "but I thought that in love there was no place for such words."

"I speak only of love without hope," he murmured, "when speaking of sadness and suffering, I refer to love without hope. I have talked about the emotion of loving, but not that of feeling loved."

"And you then, have you not been loved?"

"I have been loved desperately by tearful white woman and by ardent dusky maidens. I have been loved by many seductive creatures. I have felt them sob in my arms, fondle my hair, and cover me with passionate kisses. But in the depth of my soul I have remained unmoved, cold before their caresses."

"Then," said the girl, "you don't know the true pleasure of feeling loved? Or perhaps you haven't felt love? Because if you didn't love, then you couldn't have taken pleasure in the love of the others..."

"Yes, truly, I didn't take pleasure in the love of the others."

"You don't know," she said gravely "the pleasure of being loved. Or perhaps you haven't felt love."

"I haven't had that pleasure. That is to say, I do now, feel love, but not the happiness of feeling loved.I would give my life for one hour of that happiness. Only you in the world could give it to me."

She didn't answer.
But in the violet flame of dusk, he saw her tremble and turn pale.




Primer Amor

Froylan Turcios

La virgen de los quince años, que nunca había amado, en una tarde escarlata interrogó al hombre taciturno sobre algunas cosas del alma. Le interrogó más bien con la mirada profunda que con los labios floridos.

-El amor us una embriaguez divina. Es la suprema angustia y la suprema delicia. Amar es sufrir, es sentir dentro del espíritu todas las tempestades y todas las alegías. Es vivir una vida fantastíca, impregnada de trizteza y de perfumes. Es soñar dulces cosas a la hora del crepúsculo y cosas extrañas en la callada medianoche. Es llevar constantemente en las pupilas la imagen de la mujer querida, y en el oído su voz, y en todo el ser la gloria de su encanto.

Ella le miraba sonriendo misteriosamente.

El continuó:
-No sé lo que una mujer peuda pensar y sentir; pero me imagino que en ustedes las sensaciones son más sutiles y más hondas.

-Habla usted de tristeza y de sufrimiento -exclamó ella-, y yo creíía que en el amor no cabían esas palabras.

-Yo me he referido únicamente al amor sin esperanza -murmuró en voz baja el taciturno-. Al hablar de tristeza y de sufrimiento me he referido al amor sin esperanza. He dicho la emoción de amar; pero no la de sentirme amado.

-Usted, pues, ¿jamás ha sido amado?

-He sido amado locamente por mujeres blancas y tristes, por vírgenes morenas y ardientes. He sido amado por muchas criaturas seductoras. Las he sentido sollazar en mis brazos y jugar con mis cabellos y cubrirme de besos apasionados. Pero en el fondo de mi alma he permanecido impasible, frío ante tus caricias.

-Entonces- dijo la jovencita-, ¿no conoce usted la verdadero placer de sentirse amado? Porque si usted no amaba, no podia gozar con el amor de las otras...

-Sí, ciertamente, no he gozado con el amor de las otras.

-No conoce usted- dijo ella gravemente- el palcer de ser amado. O quizá no habrá sentido el amor.

-No conozco ese placer. Es decir, conozco, ahora, el amor; pero no la felicidad de sentirme amado. Diera la vida por una hora de esa felicidad. Usted es la única en el mundo que pudiera dármela.

Ella no contestó.
Pero entre la llama violeta del crepúsculo, la vió temblar y ponerse pálida.