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A labyrinth of iron and concrete
surrounds your stolen figure,
lost within the edges of its angles.
A question wounds my mind,
hammering against the stony silence:
Where are you? Where are you?
The city looms larger before my eyes,
it grows! it grows!, expands with my anguish,
it floods me, overwhelms me, spills me over.
I imagine you defenseless, weary, alone,
submerged in the strange, shapeless crowd.
Where are you? How are you?
The telephone lies silent, elusive,
that familiar voice of comfort is absent.
I could question the whole world
where you are on this night of wandering.
I know the easy answer, born of ice!
How are you? If you still are...
Dark doubt prowls about
and settles in my frozen clay.
Fear takes hold of my mind,
feeling the urban monster with its streetlights
of lethal pallor, growing and growing!
If you still are... Where are you?
The alien city embraces you,
while the helplessness of its arms suffocates me.
The vertigo of panic howls and roars,
and an inner fury, bound in chains,
strikes me relentlessly and destroys me.
Where are you? How are you?
Millions of foolish visionaries
seek sunlight in fireflies,
clumsy creatures trembling on street corners,
wreckage of wandering stallions
entranced by imaginary landscapes.
How are you? If you still are...
Young death lurks through the streets,
vile geometric crossroads.
I hear the roar of cars that travel,
bearing their load of sepulchral specters,
through tunnels of seductive dangers.
If you still are... Where are you?
And I wait, I wait for your return,
or perhaps I await the day of sorrow,
and through thick, suffocating walls
a murky dawn descends irrationally,
giving birth to distances, to loneliness.
Where are you? How are you?
The uncontrollable vastness continues,
the coldness of matter continues,
this labyrinth, this anthill continues,
trapping me, beloved son, tightening around me
the helplessness, the torment, the despair
of living like this, knowing nothing.
How are you? Where are you? And if you still are...
Traductora: Vekas Rodica

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Portada "Maternidad..., es poesía"
Índice "Maternidad..., es poesía"
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Libros de Emma-Margarita R. A.-Valdés
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