Children of a childish man on the horizons will not enjoy the life he had {Vallejo to Neruda}

Children of a childish man on the horizons will not enjoy the life he had {Vallejo to Neruda}

_______________________________

Lower my voice, Peru is convulsed,
enormous and sure, not knowing what to do.
In her hand is the skill talking away,
the skull with its eyes,
the mind that is our time together.
Son of fighters, in the meantime,
lowering my voice,
Peru is even now never giving in.
It’s energy of and amongst the animal kingdom.
The wild fowlers, comets and women.

Lower my voice, I tell you,
lower my voice, the song of my syllable.
The wails of matters.
The slight hum of pyramids,
even the hum of heads bearing stones.
Lower my breath and if the forearm comes down,
if the ruler slaps, if it is night,
if the sky fits between two earths,
if there is sound here in this hall,
then I am late to speaking.
If you see no one, then you are home.

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