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Kings of the world

Age does not diminish the intensity of feeling


You and I, fragile branches

that bloomed in the cracks

Of a sinister city

Of merchants and dancers

In your livid complexion the affection

Unscathed as a cloudless twilight

Wood for the walls, the mountains

Of the eternal matter, the feeling

Your unexpected departure is my departure

Where have you gone?

Your hugs, your answers, they still come back

Where, little sister, my friend?

Why did you come, Cristina?

To suffer the Universe?

The forests, the cities; were they ours?

My tears still fall on your days

You loved. Were you born then? Did you pass away?

Life happens; love, on the other hand, is for ever

Allende, your innocence is reborn at dawn

Over the gray laughter and the sour nights

In cardboard cruise ships we cross the sea

On a platform as wide as the Caribbean Sea

Yellow birds cawed under a blue sky

Of air sweetened by fallen fruits

My arms were trails of sand,

Columns you clung to

Hearing rumors, seeing

Ogres and gorgons, mirages on the water

In your immense life is my childhood

Not in the black days, segregated

Neither in the convictions, nor in the street brawls

Not even in public executions, far away

The face that I discover before the mirror is alien to me

I lost mine one morning in March,

On the outskirts of a suburb;

His firmament, his waters, still await him

Mocked and tempered

On the traces of Gethsemane,

With that that blood in that sand

I rediscover your affection in other faces

Other voices will remind you, Cristina,

Without your agony I’d never have understood

The immeasurableness of a love

Nor the wide prairies of the eternal.

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