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i offer you the bitterness of a an who has looked long and long at the lonely oon

i offer you y ancestors, y dead n, the ghosts that livg n have honoured arble:

y father’s father killed the frontier ofbuenos aires, o bullets through his ngs, bearded and dead, wrapped by his ldiers the hide of a w;

y other’s grandfather -jt entyfour- headg a char of three hundred n peru, now ghosts on vanished horses

i offer you whatever sight y books ay hold,whatever anless or huour y life

i offer you the loyalty of a an who has never been loyal

i offer you that kernel of yself that i have saved how -the central heart that deals not words, traffics not with dreas and is untouched by ti, by joy, by adversities

i offer&n

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