I have no clear idea of
what I look like these days
although I sometimes glimpse my shadow
on the dimly lit castle walls,
the water ponds scorn me
and deny me their grace
so I hardly remember my semblance anymore
in the dead of the night, near dawn
I miss my face
In the gloomy hall
there is a picture of a handsome youth
they say it was me
but of my likeness I find no trace
and my prior life is but smoke
the fierce night wind has blown away
in the dead of night, before the dawn
I miss my face
I live off life
but life escapes me
albeit so briefly I seem to grasp it
’tis but illusion, daylight has left me
to roam alone the eternal ways
in the dead of night, almost at dawn
I miss my face
Copyright © 2003 by Roberto Sanhueza
“If I Were a Werewolf,” a companion poem in Roberto’s “vampire cycle,” appeared in issue57.
