|Juan Antonio Santos||Traductor|
VII. Zaman’s Hill
The great hill hung close over the old town,
A precipice against the main street’s end;
Green, tall, and wooded, looking darkly down
Upon the steeple at the highway bend.
Two hundred years the whispers had been heard
About what happened on the man-shunned slope—
Tales of an oddly mangled deer or bird,
Or of lost boys whose kin had ceased to hope.
One day the mail-man found no village there,
Nor were its folk or houses seen again;
People came out from Aylesbury to stare—
Yet they all told the mail-man it was plain
That he was mad for saying he had spied
The great hill’s gluttonous eyes, and jaws stretched wide.
|Hongos de Yuggoth y otros poemas fantásticos||Valdemar||2010|
|Hongos de Yuggoth y otros poemas fantásticos||Valdemar||1994|
|Hongos de Yuggoth||Valdemar||1988|