VIEWS FROM THE HOUSE OF THE ATLANTIS

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(English translation,also done by myself,of my original Spanish poem "La Casa de los Atlantes)


This area of these shores, this café, these walls....They knew so much!

The creaking of the wooden slats on the upper floor

allying with the colourful fauna inside the gray basement:

the toad game, the trick grame, the broom(another old cards game)...

The fantasy of an eternal chess ...

The silence of a loser...

The daily parade of the Old Black Faustine, with her starched skirt,her songs, her dances, and those girls' laughter,just in the backyard of that house of the Atlanteans,hidden among orange and lemon trees.

It was with the Angelus' bells,

At about five o'clock in the afternoon, when the first lamp was lit ..


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