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In the end, at last, finally
I turn, I came back and wither, and I moan to you, giving you
the key, my hat, this letter for everyone.
At the end of the key lies the metal in which we learned
to ungild gold, and at the end
of my hat lies this poor badly combed brain,
and, a last glass of smoke, in its dramatic role,
lies this practical dream of the soul.

  Goodbye, brother saint peters,
heraclituses, erasmuses, spinozas!
Goodbye, sad bolshevik priests!
Goodbye, rulers in disorder!
Goodbye, wine in water like wine!
Goodbye, alcohol in rain!

  And goodbye also, I tell myself,
goodbye, formal flight of milligrams!
Goodbye as well, in the same way,
cold of cold and cold of warmth!
In the end, at last, finally, the logic,
the frontiers of the fire,
the farewell recalling that goodbye.

12 Oct 1937

César Vallejo
Translators: Michael Smith & Valentino Gianuzzi

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