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Agape September 12, 2015

Posted by The Typist in Poetry, The Journey, The Narrative, The Typist, Toulouse Street.
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By César Vallejo 

Today no one has come to inquire;
nor have they asked me for anything this afternoon.

I’ve not seen a single cemetery flower
in such a happy procession of lights.
Forgive me, Lord: how little I have died!

On this afternoon everybody, everybody passes by
without inquiring or asking me for anything.

And I don’t know what they forget and remains
strangely in my hands, like something that’s not mine.

I’ve gone to the door,
and feel like shouting at everybody:
If you’re missing something, here it remains!

Because in all the afternoons of this life,
I don’t know what doors they slam in a face,
and my soul is seized by someone else’s thing.

Today no one has come;
and today how little I have died this afternoon!

Comments»

1. Chris - September 13, 2015

Wow!

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