JOS» EDMUNDO AG‹ERO MOLINA f. 1956 i Salta, Argentina. Journalist, poet og forfatter.

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til engelsk ved Natalia Aguero TIME My time has passed through me and as if I were an amphora I tried to cherish, to fill with its volatility, clasped my hands the diffuse profile of the forgotten. I did not choose my time or the strange result of my universe; I was elected by them. I knew I was alive the first time I was touched My mother's hands; I knew it wasn't eternal the first time I broke tears. I was a child without realizing it I lived my childhood in a distracted way, sniffing life forward. And sailed my years with my clumsiness blindness by joining in the skin of my children and subtracting when the belly of love ended. But time was settled inside with sediment of absences and my existential self was expanding toward my own destiny. The time that has passed through me, It has not filled me yet, nor emptied; only made me who I am, laughter and pain, and blue thoughts. EXECUTIONER'S SONG Mother, I hear. they are coming, with their death rumor coming down the stairs With fire in their hands, illuminating the small virgin cocking the weapons singing a black powder song As that gap hurts that is opening the land, to hold onto the immense night of death. How the virgin looks at me kissing my blindfold when the moon dig with silk shovels. Mother untie the light with your warm fingers; I want to see them when they point to my eyes. Climb in the sun by small patio tiles; you'll be watering and me jumping cliffs. Lets the executioner sing! with his hoarse song of blood and burst, Loose the black birds! my meat will be your caw! I'm just coming back! I am only cold! Mother warm up the hands of time that has been. I'm just coming back ... to be born with you!

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