LXXV
You are dead.
What a strange way of standing dead. Quinque
say ye are not.
But in truth, you are dead. Ately behind you float
aquesa membrane, pendulous
zenith to nadir, comes and goes from dusk to dusk,
vibrating to the sound box of a wound that hurts is not for you.
I say, then, that life is in mirror
and that you are the original death. Mentre
wave going, as the wave comes,
how impunity is a dead one.
Only when the waters break in
facing edges and bend and fold, then I believe transfiguráis and die,
perceive the sixth string is no longer yours.
You are dead, not having ever lived before. Whoever
say which are not now, were at one time.
But in truth, you are the corpses of a life that never was.
sad fate for not being dead but forever!
Being dry leaf green without being ever.
Orphans of orphanages.
And yet, the dead are not dead
can be a life not yet lived. They died
life forever.
You are dead.
César Vallejo
Trilce , LXXV
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Every year at school we had to learn and recite a poem in class (not "recite" eye ... "recite ). This poem I used in my últmo year and was one of the most practiced ... I labored as an advantage when everyone breaks out of the room, but eventually there were those who found me and began to consider testing I had mental problems ... In short, although at first refused my madness, I accept it and enjoy now. I have a special appreciation for the poetry of Vallejo for the strength he has, and uses very interesting literary figures, and though his lines are murky, are part of a universal work that I hope many people want to read. César Vallejo: a big plus.
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| César Vallejo Source: Wikipedia |
a day like today, in 1892, was born the greatest poet that Peru has left. The world-renowned Cesar Vallejo was born in Santiago de Chuco, La Libertad. A lifetime later, ill and died only in 1938, leaving a work that would be considered by film critics as "the greatest poet after Dante Alighieri universal."
Trade: Today marks 119 years of the birth of César Vallejo.
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