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Black Stone On Top Of A White Stone

Rating: 3.7

I shall die in Paris, in a rainstorm,
On a day I already remember.
I shall die in Paris-- it does not bother me--
Doubtless on a Thursday, like today, in autumn.

It shall be a Thursday, because today, Thursday
As I put down these lines, I have set my shoulders
To the evil. Never like today have I turned,
And headed my whole journey to the ways where I am alone.

César Vallejo is dead. They struck him,
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Richard Wlodarski 28 April 2016

Thursdays will now have a new meaning for me. I shall toast this poet on Thursdays.

1 0 Reply
Michelle Claus 27 March 2014

Powerful. The first two lines reeled me in; I had to read on.

2 0 Reply
Richard Blay 27 March 2014

I love this poem much. Nice!

0 0 Reply
Cecilia Nicoletti 09 February 2007

The native man speaks no much.And use to be silent because hes word has been taken a long time ago from him.Vallejo interrups the old silence of natives in South American Literature.And it is true, he speaks as a white man and he lands at Europe to more lonely and sad.For his complex poetry it is about to be valued as he deserves.And to understand the real importance of having a voice and being heard...

4 0 Reply

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