miércoles, 15 de enero de 2014

"Epitafio," de Juan Gelman

A bird lived in me.
A flower traveled in my blood.
My heart was a violin.

I wanted or did not want. But sometimes
they loved me. Perhaps they
praised me. Spring,
hands grasped, happiness.

I say we men should be...
here lies a bird,
A flower,
A violin.

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