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DOWN TO THE DREGS (from the Spanish of Cesar Vallejo) This afternoon it rains as never before; and I don't feel like staying alive, heart. The afternoon is pleasant. Why shouldn't it be? It is wearing grace and pain; it is dressed like a woman. This afternoon m Lima it is raining. And I remember the cruel caverns of my ingratitude; my block of ice laid on her poppy, stronger than her crying "Don't be this way!" My violent black flowers; and the barbarous and staggering blow with a stone; and the glacial pause. And the silence of her dignity will pour scalding oils on the end of the sentence. Therefore, this afternoon, as never before, I walk with this owl, with this heart. And other women go past; and seeing me sullen, they sip a little of you in the abrupt furrow of my deep grief. This afternoon it rains, rains endlessly. And I don't feel like staying alive, heart. NOT IN MARBLE PALACES (from the Spanish of Pedro Salinas) Not in marble palaces, not in months, no, nor in ciphers, never touching ground: in weightless, fragile worlds we have lived together. 106 ...

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