normal
normal, these strange beings,
those who do not have a crazy mother,
a drunken father, a delinquent son, a house
nowhere, an unknown disease,
those who have not been burned by devouring love,
those who lived seventeen of smiling faces and a little more,
's full of shoes, archangels with hats,
the contented, fat, cute,
the rintintÃn and his henchmen,
which of course, here,
earners, those who are dear to the hilt, accompanied by flutist
mice
sellers and buyers,
slightly superhuman knights,
men dressed women thunder and lightning,
the delicate, wise, fine,
the kind, candy, groceries and beverages. Happy
birds, manure, stones.
But give way to those who make worlds and dreams, illusions
, symphonies, the words that tear us down and we build, the craziest
their mothers, the most drunken
their parents and their children more offenders more devoured
and scorching love.
Let them leave their room in hell, and enough. Happy
normal Roberto Fernandez Retamar.
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