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        VIII

Like a stretched-out cat,
your clothes watch us
from the foot of your bed.
And your body recently
could have been in them
still,
planning their leap,
waiting to crash
wildly against my body,
which also pursues us,
at the edge of the chair,
embracing its own
long darkness.
Eyes that were made
to see
an accepted danger,
under the light of the moon.

autógrafo

Luis García Montero
Translation by Alice McAdams


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Book I
español Original version