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As autumn falls
Shrouded in golden leaves,
we wait.
The world doesn’t end at sunset
and only dreams
limit themselves to things.
Through a labyrinth of blank hours
time leads us on
as autumn falls
over our house, our patio.
Shrouded in a relentless fog
we wait, we wait:
nostalgia means to live without remembering
the word we are made of.
Entre árboles
Si eres tú la que busco
ven en la noche de perdidos reflejos,
si eres el cuerpo amado
ven entre árboles, entre canciones.
In between trees
If you are who I look for, come
in the night of lost reflections,
if you are the beloved body,
come in between trees, in between songs.
De su decimosegundo libro, El artista del silencio (The artist of silence) del 2012