"I want to sleep the dream of the apples, To withdraw from the tumult of cemeteries
I want to sleep the dream of that child, Who wanted to cut his heard on the high seas
I do not want to hear again that the dead do not lose their blood
That the putrid mouth goes on asking for water
All must know that I have not died, That there is a stable of gold in my lips
I am the intense shadow, shadow of my tears"
-Gacela of the Dark Death
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