Paris, October 1936

From all of this I am the only one who leaves.
From this bench I go away, from my pants,
from my great situation, from my actions,
from my number split side to side,
from all of this I am the only one who leaves.

From the Champs Elysées or as the strange
alley of the Moon makes a turn,
my death goes away, my cradle leaves,
and, surrounded by people, alone, cut loose,
my human resemblance turns around
and dispatches its shadows one by one.

And I move away from everything, since everything
remains to create my alibi:
my shoe, its eyelet, as well as its mud
and even the bend in the elbow
of my own buttoned shirt.

by Cesar Vallejo

Comments (4)

The only one! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Haunting work. Very reflective. The poignant sadness, the sense of the undone, what might have been accomplished, it is all very palpable in the superbly descriptive details.
And I move away from everything, since everything remains to create my alibi: - - - - -//- - - - - Such a wonderful expression and minute observation. So thoughtful.
Reminds me of the song WHEN OCTOBER GOES popularized by BARRY MANILOW...Thanks for posting...