Y ahora vamos con el tercer texto en inglés del ciclo tétrico:
PHLEGETHON
As Lawrence of Rome,
slow roasted with heat from the coals on a grill, we squirm under uncertainty
creeping sweaty behind our eyes, hidden, pushing us toward a fiery crucible of
grief, of persistent dispair. It’s that misgiving what burns us slowly and
makes our life a procession of fiery red sunsets, a river of molten rock licking
our charred skin and inflames our eyes and throat. This is our punishment, this
is our global warming and these are our wings, melted for wanting to fly higher
than the Sun, for enslaving what is born free, for being the only animal that
is not afraid of the flame.
(Imagen: greekmythology.wikia.com
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