There is no history without first a place.
I have the heart to love you,
in this full loneliness that drowns me.
I have eyes full of light to imagine you,
and I have blind eyes not to see you.
I have the rough voice to talk to so many people,
and I have the lovely voice to sing to you.
My hands are cracked from the frost
And I have the gentle hands of heaven caress you
Un somriure de mitja llunya
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