Cesar Vallejo
Brother, today I sit on the brick bench of the house, Where you make a bottomless emptiness. I remember we used to play at this hour, and mama Caressed us: “But, sons…” Now I
I shall die in Paris, in a rainstorm, On a day I already remember. I shall die in Paris it does not bother me Doubtless on a Thursday, like today, in autumn. It shall
From all of this I am the only one who leaves. From this bench I go away, from my pants, From my great situation, from my actions, From my number split side to side,