I'll write as if I did not write.
You'll have my song, the vague accent,
- transfixed in silent suffering -
a wooden bird with wings
and guess, it will arrive, even,
a fraction of the torment.
hoarse already, and breathless,
write as if they feel;
as if it were someone else or all
yesterday was part of a furniture and rto;
as if, across the desert,
already passed the last bend
of life, happy not known,
the shadows at last I have discovered.
Rafael Valero (The poetry of Hosea)
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