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Cry
Me has dicho que lloras casi todas las noches, en este invierno húmedo de Lima, que miras a la luna, su contorno blanquecino; que sueltas preguntas a una ciudad de cartón, y que no hay más respuesta que el silencio y el ruido de los carros.
La ciudad nos abre su bocaza, y nos traga. Caminamos por ella, por sus largas avenidas, respirando el humo y el hedor cálido de las esquinas. Y sé que mi tiempo ha llegado, que fundiremos sangre y saliva en este triste y gris cielo de la ciudad de Lima… y que su sombra implacable se comerá nuestros pasos, y que la memoria nos arrojará a alguna calle que se muere, donde el hijo olvidado de la ciudad nos sonríe. Y que a pesar de la distancia, a pesar de los fantasmas, del cansancio y del miedo, a pesar de ti y de mí, aquí estaré, esperando, todo el tiempo que haya que esperar.
The Dedpoet Feb 2016
In every century
You will hear of a comet lost in time;
Haley's was here an eye blink ago,
And the rivers replenish the oceans
One and again.
There will be a small light in the sky
That you will not see tomorrow
Because it is now dead,
And it died millions of years
Before the luminous rays hit
The first womb of Eve.
     There will be children grown
Into formidable singulars,
     And each one is barely here
When the sun yawns, another passes away.
    And when the sky is full
You will count the stars
With your child, just to teach them how
To count.
        The eclipse will haunt one because it is
Like a darkness that comes to visit
       In between one decade and another,
You will question yourself to see
    Where you were before.
And there are premature moons,
     Babies of the cosmos,
And you will name one after your daughters
That brought you to look
Again at the hopeful skies.
    And when you are done here,
As you leave for eternity
To the Blue Sun,
You will look back
And see the tiny miniscule miracle
That was a star being born.

— The End —