“Viento
y las nubes if deshacen;
brisa y blancas
if transfiguran.
Hay ecos
que no son de las palabras
son of aliento,
no nos repiten
nos convocan to escuchar
decirse para lo que nos llama.”
“Wind
and the clouds come apart;
breeze and white
are transfigured.
There are echoes
which are not of the words
are breathing,
no repeat
invite us to listen
what calls us to be said.”
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