Black stone on a white stone (an excerpt)
César Vallejo
I will die in Paris while it rains
On a day I already remember
I will die in Paris, and I do not run away
Perhaps in the autumn on a Thursday, as it is today
It will be a Thursday, because today,
the Thursday that I write these lines,
My bones feel the turn
And never so much as today, in all my road,
Have I seen myself alone
...
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