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Cant del Mignia
5
Night comes and darkness enters through thewindow
And only a shaft of wind and a warm pot
And the kitchen whistling an old song
And the soul stitched with holes
And all the nostalgia of tomorrow
And a boiling iPad
A ringing telephone
It seems that everything is alive,
Quotidianity,
Signs that foil foolishness
But there, the song of children
And the isolated trobadours
A bitter sound in disguise
With smoke and branches
Feeds life on the terrace.