IDENTIDADES 1 ENGLISH february 2017 | Page 67

TRIP TO SILENCE My voice is diluted in The opaque shelter of the night . Will there be any vestige on The worn-out skin of the future ? A tiny phrase hanging from the parish facade That they raised four centuries ago ? An affirmative sentence among The roots of a tree damaged By fire ? Any word that they will confuse With a whisper ? At the end of the road Silence is waiting with open arms . That ' s why I talk to myself Before shutting up forever .
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