I’ve nothing to glorify! What image or substance must be more mine than this wonderful, stereo tide? It seems like shadow from the wrong side. It doesn’t mirror me in the fern, but casts light, seeding me within and without. I can’t say if it’s a green monster, but it keeps the secret ripeness I now descry in the blackest, lethal areas. I’ve no idea if it’s fermenting, but it shakes invisible stems and farmlands when hoisting me immortal in the weeds. It distances me from my dark side when I put on its glass and intone the magic song of existence.
— translated from the Spanish by Louis Bourne