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To collect your footprints,
snow has fallen
over the sidewalk.

The snow of December,
that asks you to return
as it lies down.

Since sunrise,
without becoming at all humble
under your feet.

How solitary I live
in this
cold heart.

Where snow waits,
preparing its return
for your footprints.

autógrafo

Luis García Montero
Translation by Alice McAdams


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Book II
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