What would happen if the words
Could move mountains?
Where would be today
This repeated mountain range
Of sheer summits
That crosses my soul?
The proparoxytone, the simple one,
The oxytone,
The concatenated.
Who could name
The vast plains
With their tundra, with their taiga?
I am a paralyzed climber
That contemplates
The snowy summit.
In my tongue today it camps
The abominable cold
Of the perpetual
Snows
Of Kilimanjaro.
Dumbstruck and without words
I am not
An April
With their cherry trees
At the feet of Mount Fuji.
And this desire to dissolve
This delirium
That is named Chimborazo.
To Move the Aconcagua,
The Everest,
Or just only
Those seven hills of Rome,
To eradicate of my chest
This unmovable
Mount of Zion,
That is sewn
To the left side
Of my chest
And that with words
I have named
Heart.
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