Here
In this uncultivated lot
It will be built
Babylon:
It will be a magnificent city
Where will settle down
The principles of the dawn.
And as if was the same
As an edict
Of Hammurabi,
To both riverbanks
And among the mythical rivers,
Flocks of birds
They will sing in the nights
And hanging flowers
They will hang down
Of my bedrooms.
My heart
Will stop to be wandering
And already never
In other languages it will be
Uttered matter relative
To the sadness, the bitterness,
The abandonment
Or the perennial solitude.
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