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In that corner where we slept together
so many nights, I've sat down now
to wander. The bedstead of the defunct lovers
was taken out, or — who knows what happened?

You've come early on other business
and now you're no longer here. It's the corner
where, by your side, I read one night
between your tender breasts
a story by Daudet. It's the corner
we loved. Don't mistake it.

I've begun to remember those lost
days of summer, your comings and goings,
little and fed up and pale through the rooms.

On this drenching night,
already far from us both, I jump up suddenly...
It's two doors opening, closing,
two doors that come and go in the wind
shadow to shadow.


César Vallejo
Translation by Sandy McKinney

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