Il ya deux ans, presque jour pour jour, je flânais dans le Cimetière de la Recoleta. Les sycomore
découpaient a ciel bas et lourd of menace, au détour d'une allée, je l'ai rencontrée.
I knew nothing then of the Latin America or North or South .... And if the freighter that brought me to France had made some good stops in Brazilian ports, and finally landed me in the Buenos Aires, I did not know any of these ports of south and north, pains, sorrows, souls torn by grief, shipwrecks ...
but she had warned.
(Why is it, good god!, We are offered a life that has not sought to impose on us, then, to win ... or lose it ?...)
Today I saw these ports, closed loop, and I know she is there, very close again. Living stone ... Morbide dans aucune pensée tout cela, mais j'aime ces cementeries, flottent où sur les Tombes, des parfums de fleurs et de vies rêvées fanées ....
two years ago, almost day by day, wandering in the cemetery of Recoleta. Sycamore trees silhouetted sky low and heavy hint of a back street, I found it.
already knew nothing of the Latin America, or north or south .... And if the ship that brought me from France, of course, had made several stops at ports Brasileiros to the end, landed in Buenos Aires was unaware of these ports in the south and north, the sufferings, grief, des souls heartbroken, of shipwrecks ...
but she had warned ...
(Because, God, you are Necessita offrece a life we do not ask, to impose, at once, to win or lose ?...) ....,
Today, I saw these ports, rize the loop, and I know you are here, very close again, a living stone ... No idea morbid in this, but I gusatan the cemeteries, where wave upon the graves of dead flowers smell and dream lives ....
Montevideo on January 16, 2008
South 
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