If the forgetfulness omits the detail
Of turning off the light forever,
What do I do?
With this huge sun
That explodes me every day
In the same place
That I keep under a thousand locks
This affection of my heart.
If the forgetfulness refuses to erase
This snail rake in my head,
What do I do?
With this new stock of desires
That the dawn made me born inside
In the same place in that I planted
My most tender and sound kisses
At the spot where I keep my best song.
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