His idea was still with me, because it was not a vapour sunshine could disperse, nor a sand-traced effigy storms could wash away; it was a name graven on a tablet, fated to last as long as the marble it inscribed.
Su recuerdo vivía en mí: no era una nube de estío que el sol disipa, ni una figura trazada en la arena, que borra el viento. No: su recuerdo era como un nombre grabado en un mármol, persistente en él mientras el mármol exista.