El verano ya no existe,
bajo nuestros tejados de amianto,
se adivina viento seco
desde dentro, cotidiano camposanto.
Autoconsciencia del tiempo,
marea dura de pensamientos
golpea y fractura sin cesar
sueños de azul y mar fresco.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way.