“I am the ephemeral...”
“I am the ephemeral” –he said to himself– “I will cover myself with the poem to hide it.”
He hibernated like that for centuries and wasn’t even awakened by the indiscreet trumpets convening discredited resurrections.
{ Emilio Adolfo Westphalen, Ha vuelto la Diosa Ambarina, Lima: Jaime Campodónico/Editor, 1989 }
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