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I Stalk Certain Words... I Catch Them In Mid-flight, As They Buzz Past, I Trap Them, Clean Them, Peel Them, I Set Myself In Front Of The Dish, They Have A Crystalline Texture To Me, Vibrant, Ivory, Vegetable, Oily, Like Fruit, Like Algae, Like Agates, Like Olives... I Stir Them, I Shake Them, I Drink Them, I Gulp Them Down, I Mash Them, I Garnish Them... I Leave Them In My Poem Like Stalactites, Like Slivers Of Polished Wood, Like Coals, Like Pickings From A Shipwreck, Gifts From The Waves... Everything Exists In The Word.

-Pablo Neruda

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I Stalk Certain Words...

Pablo Neruda

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I Stalk Certain Words... I Catch Them In Mid-flight, As They Buzz Past, I Trap Them, Clean Them, Peel Them, I Set Myself In Front Of The Dish, They Have A Crystalline Texture To Me, Vibrant, Ivory, Vegetable, Oily, Like Fruit, Like Algae, Like Agates, Like Olives... I Stir Them, I Shake Them, I Drink Them, I Gulp Them Down, I Mash Them, I Garnish Them... I Leave Them In My Poem Like Stalactites, Like Slivers Of Polished Wood, Like Coals, Like Pickings From A Shipwreck, Gifts From The Waves... Everything Exists In The Word.

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Take Bread Away From Me, If You Wish, Take Air Away, But Do Not Take From Me Your Laughter.

Poetry Is An Act Of Peace.

And I, A Materialist Who Does Not Believe In The Starry Heaven Promised To A Human Being, For This Dog And For Every Dog I Believe In Heaven, Yes, I Believe In A Heaven That I Will Never Enter, But He Waits For Me Wagging His Big Fan Of A Tail So I, Soon To Arrive, Will Feel Welcomed.

Oh Each Successive Night That Comes Has Something In It Of An Abandoned Ember That Is Slowly Burning Out, And It Falls Swathed In Ruins, Surrounded By Funereal Objects.

We The Mortals Touch The Metals, The Wind, The Ocean Shores, The Stones, Knowing They Will Go On, Inert Or Burning, And I Was Discovering, Naming All The These Things: It Was My Destiny To Love And Say Goodbye.

The Hardest Way Of Learning Is That Of Easy Reading.

Day-colored Wine, Night-colored Wine, Wine With Purple Feet Or Wine With Topaz Blood, Wine, Starry Child Of Earth.

And The Verse Falls To The Soul Like Dew To The Pasture.

I Built Up These Lumber Piles Of Love, And With Fourteen Boards Each I Built Little Houses, So That Your Eyes, Which I Adore And Sing To, Might Live In Them. Now That I Have Declared The Foundations Of My Love, I Surrender This Century To You: Wooden Sonnets That Rise Only Because You Gave Them Life.

Give Me, For My Life, All Lives, Give Me All The Pain Of Everyone, I'm Going To Turn It Into Hope. Give Me All The Joys, Even The Most Secret, Because Otherwise How Will These Things Be Known? I Have To Tell Them, Give Me The Labors Of Everyday, For That's What I Sing.

And I, Infinitesimal Being, Drunk With The Great Starry Void, Likeness, Image Of Mystery, I Felt Myself A Pure Part Of The Abyss, I Wheeled With The Stars, My Heart Broke Loose On The Wind.

Oh, May Your Silhouette Never Dissolve On The Beach; May Your Eyelids Never Flutter Into The Empty Distance. Don't Leave Me For A Second, My Dearest.

Bitter Love, A Violet With It's Crown Of Thorns In A Thicet Of Spiky Passions, Spear Of Sorrow, Corolla Of Rage: How Did You Come To Conquer My Soul? What Brought You?

So I Love You Because I Know No Other Way Than This: Where I Does Not Exist, Nor You, So Close That Your Hand On My Chest Is My Hand, So Close That Your Eyes Close As I Fall Asleep.

If We Were Not So Single-minded About Keeping Our Lives Moving And For Once Could Do Nothing, Perhaps A Huge Silence Might Interrupt This Sadness Of Never Understanding Ourselves And Of Threatening Ourselves With Death Perhaps The World Can Teach Us As When Everything Seems Dead But Later Proves To Be Alive.

If Each Day Falls Inside Each Night, There Exists A Well Where Clarity Is Imprisoned. We Need To Sit On The Rim Of The Well Of Darkness And Fish For Fallen Light With Patience.

When Your Hands Leap Towards Mine, Love, What Do They Bring Me In Flight?

Death Arrives Among All That Sound Like A Shoe With No Foot In It, Like A Suit With No Man In It, Comes And Knocks, Using A Ring With No Stone In It, With No Finger In It, Comes And Shouts With No Mouth, With No Tongue,with No Throat. Nevertheless Its Steps Can Be Heard And Its Clothing Makes A Hushed Sound, Like A Tree.

I Believed That The Way Passed Through Man, And That It Was From There That Destiny Had To Emerge.

My Soul Is An Empty Carousel At Sunset.

I No Longer Love Her, That's Certain, But Maybe I Love Her. Love Is So Short, Forgetting Is So Long.

We Bear The Sole, Relentless Tenderness.

With Which Stars Do They Go On Speaking,the Rivers That Never Reach The Sea?

I Can Write The Saddest Poem Of All Tonight. I Loved Her, And Sometimes She Loved Me Too.

It Was At That Age That Poetry Came In Search Of Me.

Latin America Is Very Fond Of The Word "hope." We Like To Be Called The "continent Of Hope." Candidates For Deputy, Senator, President, Call Themselves "candidates Of Hope." This Hope Is Really Something Like A Promise Of Heaven, An Iou Whose Payment Is Always Being Put Off. It Is Put Off Until The Next Legislative Campaign, Until Next Year, Until The Next Century.

A Child Who Does Not Play Is Not A Child, But The Man Who Doesn't Play Has Lost Forever The Child Who Lived In Him And Who He Will Miss Terribly.

You Are Like Night, Calmed, Constellated. Your Silence Is Star-like, As Distant, As True.

I Want To Eat The Sunbeam Flaring In Your Lovely Body... And I Pace Around Hungry, Sniffing The Twilight, Hunting For You, For Your Hot Heart, Like A Puma In The Barrens Of Quitratue.

There Is No Insurmountable Solitude. All Paths Lead To The Same Goal: To Convey To Others What We Are. And We Must Pass Through Solitude And Difficulty, Isolation And Silence In Order To Reach Forth To The Enchanted Place Where We Can Dance Our Clumsy Dance And Sing Our Sorrowful Song - But In This Dance Or In This Song There Are Fulfilled The Most Ancient Rites Of Our Conscience In The Awareness Of Being Human And Of Believing In A Common Destiny.

While I'm Writing, I'm Far Away; And When I Come Back, I've Gone.

I Have Named You Queen. There Are Taller Than You, Taller. There Are Purer Than You, Purer. There Are Lovelier Than You, Lovelier. But You Are The Queen.

And That's Why I Have To Go Back To So Many Places There To Find Myself And Constantly Examine Myself With No Witness But The Moon And Then Whistle With Joy, Ambling Over Rocks And Clods Of Earth, With No Task But To Live, With No Family But The Road.

If Nothing Saves Us From Death, At Least Love Should Save Us From Life

The Birds Of Night Peck At The First Stars That Flash Like My Soul When I Love You.

I Love You As Certain Dark Things Are To Be Loved, In Secret, Between The Shadow And The Soul.

The Best Poet Is The Man Who Delivers Our Daily Bread: The Local Baker.

It Was My Destiny To Love And Say Goodbye.

You Must Know That I Do Not Love And That I Love You, Because Everything Alive Has Its Two Sides; A Word Is One Wing Of Silence, Fire Has Its Cold Half. I Love You In Order To Begin To Love You, To Start Infinity Again And Never To Stop Loving You: That’s Why I Do Not Love You Yet. I Love You, And I Do Not Love You, As If I Held Keys In My Hand: To A Future Of Joy- A Wretched, Muddled Fate- My Love Has Two Lives, In Order To Love You. -sonnet Xliv

You Can Crush The Flowers, But You Can't Stop The Spring.

I Love You As One Loves Certain Dark Things.

The Night Is Shattered, And The Blue Stars Shiver In The Distance.

You & I, Love, Together We Ratify The Silence, While The Sea Destroys Its Perpetual Statues, Collapses Its Towers Of Wild Speed And Whiteness: Because In The Weavings Of Those Invisible Fabrics, Galloping Water, Incessant Sand, We Make The Only Permanent Tenderness.

I Crave Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair. Silent And Starving, I Prowl Through The Streets. Bread Does Not Nourish Me, Dawn Disrupts Me, All Day I Hunt For The Liquid Measure Of Your Steps.

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You; I Go From Loving To Not Loving You, From Waiting To Not Waiting For You My Heart Moves From Cold To Fire. I Love You Only Because It's You The One I Love; I Hate You Deeply, And Hating You Bend To You, And The Measure Of My Changing Love For You Is That I Do Not See You But Love You Blindly. Maybe January Light Will Consume My Heart With Its Cruel Ray, Stealing My Key To True Calm. In This Part Of The Story I Am The One Who Dies, The Only One, And I Will Die Of Love Because I Love You, Because I Love You, Love, In Fire And Blood.

And What Has Become Of It, Where Is That Onetime Love? Now It Is The Grave Of A Bird, A Drop Of Black Quartz, A Chunk Of Wood Eroded By The Rain.

I Don’t Love You As If You Were The Salt-rose, Topaz Or Arrow Of Carnations That Propagate Fire: I Love You As Certain Dark Things Are Loved, Secretly, Between The Shadow And The Soul.

I Ask Permission To Be Like Everybody Else,like The Rest Of The World And What's More, Like Anybody Else:i Beg You, With All My Heart,if We Are Talking About Me, Since We Are Talking About Me,please Resist Blasting The Trumpet During My Visitand Resign Yourselves To My Quiet Absence.

Sometimes A Piece Of Sun Burned Like A Coin In My Hand.

Two Things Make A Story. The Net And The Air That Falls Through The Net.

Love Is A Clash Of Lightnings

A Book, A Book Full Of Human Touches, Of Shirts, A Book Without Loneliness, With Men And Tools, A Book Is Victory.

Como Se Reparten El Sol En El Naranjo Las Naranjas? How Do The Oranges Divide Up Sunlight In The Orange Tree?

About Me, Nothing Worse They Will Tell You, My Love, Than What I Told You

Every Day You Play With The Light Of The Universe.

What Did The Tree Learn From The Earth To Be Able To Talk With The Sky?

By Night, Love, Tie Your Heart To Mine, And The Two Together In Their Sleep Will Defeat The Darkness

Sonnet Xxv Before I Loved You, Love, Nothing Was My Own: I Wavered Through The Streets, Among Objects: Nothing Mattered Or Had A Name: The World Was Made Of Air, Which Waited. I Knew Rooms Full Of Ashes, Tunnels Where The Moon Lived, Rough Warehouses That Growled 'get Lost', Questions That Insisted In The Sand. Everything Was Empty, Dead, Mute, Fallen Abandoned, And Decayed: Inconceivably Alien, It All Belonged To Someone Else - To No One: Till Your Beauty And Your Poverty Filled The Autumn Plentiful With Gifts.

I Am Made Of Earth, And My Song Made Of Words.

Is 4 The Same 4 For Everybody? Are All Sevens Equal? When The Convict Ponders The Light Is It The Same Light That Shines On You?

And What Importance Do I Have In The Courtroom Of Oblivion?

But From Each Crime Are Born Bullets That Will One Day Seek Out In You Where The Heart Lies.

I Want To Do With You What The Spring Does With The Cherry Trees.

To Feel The Love Of People Whom We Love Is A Fire That Feeds Our Life.

If You Should Ask Me Where I've Been All This Time I Have To Say "things Happen." I Have To Dwell On Stones Darkening The Earth, On The River Ruined In Its Own Duration: I Know Nothing Save Things The Birds Have Lost, The Sea I Left Behind, Or My Sister Crying. Why This Abundance Of Places? Why Does Day Lock With Day? Why The Dark Night Swilling Round In Our Mouths? And Why The Dead?

As If You Were On Fire From Within. The Moon Lives In The Lining Of Your Skin.

Loving Is A Journey With Water And With Stars, With Smothered Air And Abrupt Storms Of Flour: Loving Is A Clash Of Lightning-bolts And Two Bodies Defeated By A Single Drop Of Honey.

Then Scale By Scale, We Strip Off The Delicacy And Eat The Peaceful Mush Of Its Green Heart.

Between Lips And Lips There Are Cities Of Great Ash And Moist Summit, Drops Of When And How, Vague Comings And Goings: Between Lips And Lips As Along A Shore Of Sand And Glass The Wind Passes.

If You No Longer Live, If You My Beloved, My Love, If You Have Died, All The Leaves Will Fall In My Breast, It Will Rain In My Soul Night And Day, The Snow Will Burn My Heart, I Shall Walk With Frost And Fire And Death And Snow, My Feet Will Want To Walk To Where You Are Sleeping, But I Shall Live

Hour Of Nostalgia, Hour Of Happiness, Hour Of Solitude.

Today Is Today, And Yesterday Is Gone. There Is No Doubt.

To Feel The Affection That Comes From Those Whom We Do Not Know ... Widens Out The Boundaries Of Our Being, And Unites All Living Things.

All Paths Lead To The Same Goal: To Convey To Others What We Are.

Donde Termina El Arco Iris, En Tu Alma O En El Horizonte? Where Does The Rainbow End, In Your Soul Or On The Horizon?

How You Must Have Suffered Getting Accustomed To Me, My Savage, Solitary Soul, My Name That Sends Them All Running. So Many Times We Have Seen The Morning Star Burn, Kissing Our Eyes, And Over Our Heads The Grey Light Unwinds In Turning Fans.

Do Tears Not Yet Spilled Wait In Small Lakes?

I Stroll Along Serenely, With My Eyes, My Shoes, My Rage, Forgetting Everything.

Laughter Is The Language Of The Soul.

Love Is A War Of Lightning, And Two Bodies Ruined By A Single Sweetness. Kiss By Kiss I Cover Your Tiny Infinity, Your Margins, Your Rivers, Your Diminutive Villages, And A Genital Fire, Transformed By Delight, Slips Through The Narrow Channels Of Blood To Precipitate A Nocturnal Carnation, To Be, And Be Nothing But Light In The Dark.

What Can I Say Without Touching The Earth With My Hands?

When I Got The Chance I Asked Them A Slew Of Questions. They Offered To Burn Me; It Was The Only Thing They Knew.

He Who Does Not Travel, Who Does Not Read, Who Does Not Listen To Music, Who Does Not Find Grace In Himself, She Who Does Not Find Grace In Herself, Dies Slowly.

Listening To Music

Who Hasn't Sharpened The Edge Of His Soul? When, Just As Our Eyes Are Opened, We See Hate, And Just After Learning To Walk, We Are Tripped, And Just For Wanting To Love, We Are Hated, And For No More Than Touching, We Are Hurt, Which Of Us Hasn't Started To Arm Himself, To Make Himself Sharp, Somehow, Like A Knife, To Pay Back The Hurt?

There Is No Space Wider Than That Of Grief.

But If Each Day, Each Hour, You Feel That You Are Destined For Me With Implacable Sweetness, If Each Day A Flower Climbs Up To Your Lips To Seek Me, Ah My Love, Ah My Own, In Me All That Fire Is Repeated, In Me Nothing Is Extinguished Or Forgotten, My Love Feeds On Your Love, Beloved, And As Long As You Live It Will Be In Your Arms Without Leaving Mine.

Let Us Forget With Generosity Those Who Cannot Love Us

But I Love Your Feet Only Because They Walked Upon The Earth And Upon The Wind And Upon The Waters, Until They Found Me.

If Suddenly You Do Not Exist, If Suddenly You Are Not Living, I Shall Go On Living. I Do Not Dare, I Do Not Dare To Write It, If You Die. I Shall Go On Living.

Absence Is A House So Vast That Inside You Will Pass Through Its Walls And Hang Pictures On The Air.

Place Gifts Of Silver In Our Hands. Give Us This Day Our Daily Fish.

And Our Problems Will Crumble Apart, The Soul / Blow Through Like A Wind, And Here Where We Live Will All Be Clean Again, With Fresh Bread On The Table.

I Walked Around As You Do, Investigating The Endless Star, And In My Net, During The Night, I Woke Up Naked, The Only Thing Caught, A Fish Trapped Inside The Wind.

For Me Writing Is Like Breathing. I Could Not Live Without Breathing And I Could Not Live Without Writing.

Like A Jar You Housed The Infinite Tenderness, And The Infinite Oblivion Shattered You Like A Jar.

I Say Love, And The World Populates Itself With Doves.

When Everything Seems To Be Set To Show Me Off As Intelligent, The Fool I Always Keep Hidden Takes Over All That I Say.

Conspirators In Pajamas Who Exchange Deep Kisses For Passwords.

Over Your Breasts Of Motionless Current, Over Your Legs Of Firmness And Water, Over The Permanence And The Pride Of Your Naked Hair I Want To Be, My Love, Now That The Tears Are Thrown Into The Raucous Baskets Where They Accumulate, I Want To Be, My Love, Alone With A Syllable Of Mangled Silver, Alone With A Tip Of Your Breast Of Snow.

There Is No Insurmountable Solitude.

And One By One The Nights Between Our Separated Cities Are Joined To The Night That Unites Us.

Long Distance Relationship

Nobody Can Claim The Name Of Pedro, Nobody Is Rosa Or María, All Of Us Are Dust Or Sand, All Of Us Are Rain Under Rain. They Have Spoken To Me Of Venezuelas, Of Chiles And Paraguays; I Have No Idea What They Are Saying. I Know Only The Skin Of The Earth And I Know It Has No Name.

And I Watch My Words From A Long Way Off. They Are More Yours Than Mine. They Climb On My Old Suffering Like Ivy.

Give Me Silence, Water, Hope Give Me Struggle, Iron, Volcanoes.

La Heradera Del Dia Destruida. (the Heiress Of The Destroyed Day.)

There Were Thirst And Hunger, And You Were The Fruit. There Were Grief And The Ruins, And You Were The Miracle.

I Got Lost In The Night, Without The Light Of Your Eyelids, And When The Night Surrounded Me I Was Born Again: I Was The Owner Of My Own Darkness.

I Have Slept With You All Night Long While The Dark Earth Spins With The Living And The Dead, And On Waking Suddenly In The Midst Of The Shadow My Arm Encircled Your Waist. Neither Night Nor Sleep Could Separate Us.

The Tomato Offers Its Gift Of Fiery Color And Cool Completeness.

So I Wait For You Like A Lonely House Till You Will See Me Again And Live In Me. Till Then My Windows Ache.

Only A Burning Patience Will Lead To The Attainment Of A Splendid Happiness.

I Want To Do For You What The Spring Does For The Cherry Trees

Green Was The Silence, Wet Was The Light, The Month Of June Trembled Like A Butterfly.

The Books That Help You Most Are Those Which Make You Think That Most. The Hardest Way Of Learning Is That Of Easy Reading; But A Great Book That Comes From A Great Thinker Is A Ship Of Thought, Deep Freighted With Truth And Beauty.

Eating Alone Is A Disappointment. But Not Eating Matter More, Is Hollow And Green, Has Thorns Like A Chain Of Fish Hooks, Trailing From The Heart, Clawing At Your Insides. Hunger Feels Like Pincers, Like The Bite Of Crabs; It Burns, Burns, And Has No Fur. Let Us Sit Down Soon To Eat With All Those Who Haven't Eaten; Let Us Spread Great Tablecloths, Put Salt In Lakes Of The World, Set Up Planetary Bakeries, Tables With Strawberries In Snow, And A Plate Like The Moon Itself From Which We Can All Eat. For Now I Ask No More Than The Justice Of Eating.

I Am Not Jealous Of What Came Before Me. Come With A Man On Your Shoulders, Come With A Hundred Men In Your Hair, Come With A Thousand Men Between Your Breasts And Your Feet, Come Like A River Full Of Drowned Men Which Flows Down To The Wild Sea, To The Eternal Surf, To Time! Bring Them All To Where I Am Waiting For You; We Shall Always Be Alone, We Shall Always Be You And I Alone On Earth, To Start Our Life!

Sometimes I Get Up At Dawn, And Even My Soul Is Wet.

Peace Goes Into The Making Of A Poem As Flour Goes Into The Making Of Bread.

I Will Bring You Flowers From The Mountains, Bluebells, Dark Hazels, And Rustic Baskets Of Kisses. I Want To Do With You What Spring Does With The Cherry Trees.

I Hunger For Your Sleek Laugh And Your Hands The Color Of A Furious Harvest. I Want To Eat The Sunbeams Flaring In Your Beauty.

How Much Does A Man Live, After All?/ Does He Live A Thousand Days, Or One Only? For A Week, Or For Several Centuries?/ How Long Does A Man Spend Dying?/ What Does It Mean To Say 'for Ever'?

I Have Been A Lucky Man. To Feel The Intimacy Of Brothers Is A Marvelous Thing In Life. To Feel The Love Of People Whom We Love Is A Fire That Feeds Our Life. But To Feel The Affection That Comes From Those Whom We Do Not Know, From Those Unknown To Us, Who Are Watching Over Our Sleep And Solitude, Over Our Dangers And Our Weaknesses – That Is Something Still Greater And More Beautiful Because It Widens Out The Boundaries Of Our Being, And Unites All Living Things.

Here I Love You And The Horizon Hides You In Vain. I Love You Still Among These Cold Things. Sometimes My Kisses Go On Those Heavy Vessels That Cross The Sea Towards No Arrival. I See Myself Forgotten Like Those Old Anchors. The Piers Sadden When The Afternoon Moors There. My Life Grows Tired, Hungry To No Purpose. I Love What I Do Not Have. You Are So Far. My Loathing Wrestles With The Slow Twilights. But Night Comes And Starts To Sing To Me.

Don't Leave Me, Even For An Hour, Because Then The Little Drops Of Anguish Will All Run Together, The Smoke That Roams Looking For A Home Will Drift Into Me, Choking My Lost Heart.

I Love All The Things There Are, And Of All Fires Love Is The Only Inexhaustible One; And That's Why I Go From Life To Life.

Inspirational Love

I Was The Owner Of My Own Darkness.

At Night I Dream That You And I Are Two Plants That Grew Together, Roots Entwined, And That You Know The Earth And The Rain Like My Mouth, Since We Are Made Of Earth And Rain.

She Did Not Speak For Speech Was Unknown To Her.

Whom Can I Ask What I Came To Make Happen In This World? Why Do I Move Without Wanting To, Why Am I Not Able To Sit Still? Why Do I Go Rolling Without Wheels, Flying Without Wings Or Feathers, And Why Did I Decide To Migrate If My Bones Live In Chile?

Shyness Is A Condition Foreign To The Heart - A Category, A Dimension Which Leads To Loneliness.

When I Sleep Every Night, What Am I Called Or Not Called? And When I Wake, Who Am I If I Was Not I While I Slept?

I Am Everybody And Every Time, I Always Call Myself By Your Name.

Why Wasn't Christopher Columbus Able To Discover Spain?

Who Writes Your Name In Letters Of Smoke Among The Stars Of The South? Oh Let Me Remember You As You Were Before You Existed.

O Merry, Merry, Merry, Like Only Dogs Know How To Be Happy And Nothing More, With An Absolute Shameless Nature.

Once More I Am The Silent One Who Came Out Of The Distance Wrapped In Cold Rain And Bells: I Owe To Earth's Pure Death The Will To Sprout.

Who Do I Belong To? How Come I Mortgaged My Being Till I Don't Belong To Myself? How Come I Sold My Blood? And Who Now Owns My Indecisions, My Hands, My Private Pain, My Pride?

I Do Not Love You-except Because I Love You; I Go From Loving To Not Loving You, From Waiting To Not Waiting For You My Heart Moves From The Cold Into The Fire.

Never An Illness, Nor The Absence Of Grandeur, No, Nothing Is Able To Kill The Best In Us, That Kindness, Dear Sir, We Are Afflicted With: Beautiful Is The Flower Of Man, His Conduct, And Every Door Opens On The Beautiful Truth And Never Hides Treacherous Whispers. I Always Gained Something From Making Myself Better, Better Than I Am, Better Than I Was, That Most Subtle Citation: To Recover Some Lost Petal Of The Sadness I Inherited: To Search Once More For The Light That Sings Inside Of Me, The Unwavering Light.

I Crave Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair.

Like Them You Are Tall And Taciturn, And You Are Sad, All At Once, Like A Voyage.

White Bee, Even When You Are Gone You Buzz In My Soul You Live Again In Time, Slender And Silent.

You Know How This Is: If I Look At The Crystal Moon, At The Red Branch Of The Slow Autumn At My Window, If I Touch Near The Fire The Impalpable Ash Or The Wrinkled Body Of The Log, Everything Carries Me To You, As If Everything That Exists, Aromas, Light, Metals, Were Little Boats That Sail Toward Those Isles Of Yours That Wait For Me.

I Love You As The Plant That Never Blooms But Carries In Itself The Light Of Hidden Flowers; Thanks To Your Love A Certain Solid Fragrence Risen From The Earth, Lives Darkly In My Body. And: No One Can Stop The River Of Your Hands, Your Eyes And Their Sleepiness, My Dearest. You Are The Trembling Of Time, Which Passes Between The Vertical Light And The Darkening Sky. And: From The Stormy Archipelagoes I Brought My Windy Accordian, Waves Of Crazy Rain, The Habitual Slowness Of Natural Things: They Made Up My Wild Heart.

I Stood On The Balcony Dark With Mourning... Hoping The Earth Would Spread Its Wings In My Uninhabited Love.

Our Love Was Born Outside The Walls, In The Wind, In The Night, In The Earth, And That's Why The Clay And The Flower, The Mud And The Roots Know Your Name.

No, My Dog Used To Gaze At Me, Paying Me The Attention I Need, The Attention Required To Make A Vain Person Like Me Understand That, Being A Dog, He Was Wasting Time, But, With Those Eyes So Much Purer Than Mine, He’d Keep On Gazing At Me With A Look That Reserved For Me Alone All His Sweet And Shaggy Life, Always Near Me, Never Troubling Me, And Asking Nothing.

And Here Am I, Budding Among The Ruins With Only Sorrow To Bite On, As If Weeping Were A Seed And I The Earth's Only Furrow.

Tomorrow We Will Only Give Them A Leaf Of The Tree Of Our Love, A Leaf Which Will Fall On The Earth Like If It Had Been Made By Our Lips Like A Kiss Which Falls From Our Invincible Heights To Show The Fire And The Tenderness Of A True Love.

Maybe Nothingness Is To Be Without Your Presence, Without You Moving, Slicing The Noon Like A Blue Flower, Without You Walking Later Through The Fog And The Cobbles, Without The Light You Carry In Your Hand, Golden, Which Maybe Others Will Not See, Which Maybe No One Knew Was Growing Like The Red Beginnings Of A Rose. In Short, Without Your Presence: Without Your Coming Suddenly, Incitingly, To Know My Life, Gust Of A Rosebush, Wheat Of Wind: Since Then I Am Because You Are, Since Then You Are, I Am, We Are, And Through Love I Will Be, You Will Be, We Will Be.

Everything Is So Alive, That I Can Be Alive. Without Moving I Can See It All. In Your Life I See Everything That Lives.

This Means That We Have Barely Disembarked Into Life, That We've Only Just Now Been Born, Let's Not Fill Our Mouths With So Many Uncertain Names, With So Many Sad Labels, With So Many Pompous Letters, With So Much Yours And Mine, With So Much Signing Of Papers. I Intend To Confuse Things, To Unite Them, Make Them New-born Intermingle Them, Undress Them, Until The Light Of The World Has The Unity Of The Ocean, A Generous Wholeness, A Fragrance Alive And Crackling.

I Love You Between Shadow And Soul. I Love You As The Plant That Hasn't Bloomed Yet, And Carries Hidden Within Itself The Light Of Flowers. I Love You Without Knowing How, Or When, Or From Where. Because Of You, The Dense Fragrance That Rises From The Earth Lives In My Body, Rioting With Hunger For The Eternity Of Our Victorious Kisses.

Your Wide Eyes Are The Only Light I Know From Extinguished Constellations.

Love! Love Until The Night Collapses!

Without Doubt I Praise The Wild Excellence.

Poetry Arrived In Search Of Me. I Don't Know, I Don't Know Where It Came From, From Winter Or A River. I Don't Know How Or When.

My Feet Will Want To Walk To Where You Are Sleeping But I Shall Go On Living.

I Love You Only Because It's You The One I Love; I Hate You Deeply, And Hating You Bend To You, And The Measure Of My Changing Love For You Is That I Do Not See You But Love You Blindly.

You Are Like Nobody Since I Love You.

Under Your Skin The Moon Is Alive.

Perhaps This War Will Pass Like The Others Which Divided Us Leaving Us Dead, Killing Us Along With The Killers But The Shame Of This Time Puts Its Burning Fingers To Our Faces. Who Will Erase The Ruthlessness Hidden In Innocent Blood?

The Morning Is Full Of Storm In The Heart Of Summer. The Clouds Travel Like White Handkerchiefs Of Goodbye, The Wind, Travelling, Waving Them In Its Hands. The Numberless Heart Of The Wind Beating Above Our Loving Silence. Orchestral And Divine, Resounding Among The Trees Like A Language Full Of Wars And Songs.

We Came By Night To The Fortunate Isles, And Lay Like Fish Under The Net Of Our Kisses.

With Your Name On My Mouth And A Kiss That Never Broke Away From Yours.

But When I Call For A Hero, Out Comes My Lazy Old Self; So I Never Know Who I Am, Nor How Many I Am Or Will Be. I'd Love To Be Able To Touch A Bell And Summon The Real Me, Because If I Really Need Myself, I Mustn't Disappear.

I Should Like To Sleep Like A Cat, With All The Fur Of Time, With A Tongue Rough As Flint, With The Dry Sex Of Fire; And After Speaking To No One, Stretch Myself Over The World, Over Roofs And Landscapes, With A Passionate Desire To Hunt The Rats In My Dreams.

I Stalk Certain Words... I Catch Them In Mid-flight, As They Buzz Past, I Trap Them, Clean Them, Peel Them, I Set Myself In Front Of The Dish, They Have A Crystalline Texture To Me, Vibrant, Ivory, Vegetable, Oily, Like Fruit, Like Algae, Like Agates, Like Olives... I Stir Them, I Shake Them, I Drink Them, I Gulp Them Down, I Mash Them, I Garnish Them... I Leave Them In My Poem Like Stalactites, Like Slivers Of Polished Wood, Like Coals, Like Pickings From A Shipwreck, Gifts From The Waves... Everything Exists In The Word.

Whom Can I Ask What I Came To Make Happen In This World?

We Have To Discard The Past / And, As One Builds / Floor By Floor, Window By Window, / And The Building Rises, / So Do We Keep Shedding - First, Broken Tiles, / Then Proud Doors... And Each New Day / Gleams / Like An Empty / Plate.

Love Is So Short, Forgetting Is So Long.

I Think It Was Very Informative, But A Lot Still Needs To Be Done.

You Can Cut All The Flowers But You Cannot Keep Spring From Coming.

What Will They Say About My Poetry Who Never Touched My Blood?

And When You Appear All The Rivers Sound In My Body, Bells Shake The Sky, And A Hymn Fills The World.

Joyful, Joyful, Joyful, As Only Dogs Know How To Be Happy With Only The Autonomy Of Their Shameless Spirit.

Love Is Short, But Forgetting Is Long.

I Need The Sea Because It Teaches Me

In What Language Does Rain Fall Over Tormented Cities?

Your House Sounds Like A Train At Midday, The Wasps Buzz, The Saucepans Sing, The Waterfall Enumerates The Deeds Of The Dew . . .

I Don't Know Who It Is Who Lives Or Dies, Who Rests Or Wakes, But It Is Your Heart That Distributes All The Graces Of The Daybreak In My Breast.

Wakening From The Dreaming Forest There, The Hazel-sprig Sang Under My Tongue, Its Drifting Fragrance Climbed Up Through My Conscious Mind As If Suddenly The Roots I Had Left Behind Cried Out To Me, The Land I Had Lost With My Childhood - And I Stopped, Wounded By The Wandering Scent.

What Does Autumn Go On Paying For With So Much Yellow Money?

Love Is The Mystery Of Water And A Star.

I Am A Book Of Snow, A Spacious Hand, An Open Meadow, A Circle That Waits, I Belong To The Earth And Its Winter.

I Move In The University Of The Waves.

He Who Has Nothing—it Has Been Said Many Times—has Nothing To Lose But His Chains.

Nothing To Lose

This Time Is Difficult. Wait For Me. We Will Live It Out Vividly. Give Me Your Small Hand: We Will Rise And Suffer, We Will Feel, We Will Rejoice. We Are Once More The Pair Who Lived In Bristling Places, In Harsh Nests In The Rock. This Time Is Difficult. Wait For Me With A Basket, With A Shovel, With Your Shoes And Your Clothes. Now We Need Each Other, Not Only For The Carnations' Sake, Not Only To Look For Honey — We Need Our Hands To Wash With, To Make Fire.

The Word Was Born In The Blood, Grew In The Dark Body, Beating, And Took Flight Through The Lips And The Mouth. Farther Away And Nearer Still, Still It Came From Dead Fathers And From Wondering Races, From Lands Which Had Turned To Stone, Lands Weary Of Their Poor Tribes, For When Grief Took To The Roads The People Set Out And Arrived And Married New Land And Water To Grow Their Words Again. And So This Is The Inheritance; This Is The Wavelength Which Connects Us With Dead Men And The Dawning Of New Beings Not Yet Come To Light.

I Like On The Table, When We're Speaking, The Light Of A Bottle Of Intelligent Wine.

Political Poetry Is More Profoundly Emotional Than Any Other-at Least As Much As Love Poetry-and Cannot Be Forced Because Then It Becomes Vulgar And Unacceptable. It Is Necessary First To Pan Though All Other Poetry In Order To Become A Political Poet.

The Truth Is In The Prolouge. Death To The Romantic Fool., The Expert In Solitary Confinement.

Someone Will Ask Later, Sometimes Searching For A Name, His Own Or Someone's Else's Why I Neglected His Sadness Or His Love... But I Didn't Have Enough Time Or Ink For Everyone. Or Maybe It Was The Strain Of The City, Of Time The Cold Heart Of The Clocks.

I Have Never Thought Of My Life As Divided Between Poetry And Politics.

Well, Now If Little By Little You Stop Loving Me I Shall Stop Loving You Little By Little If Suddenly You Forget Me Do Not Look For Me For I Shall Already Have Forgotten You If You Think It Long And Mad The Wind Of Banners That Passes Through My Life And You Decide To Leave Me At The Shore Of The Heart Where I Have Roots Remember That On That Day, At That Hour, I Shall Lift My Arms And My Roots Will Set Off To Seek Another Land

Death Is The Stone Into Which Our Oblivion Hardens.

On Our Earth, Before Writing Was Invented, Before The Printing Press Was Invented, Poetry Flourished. That Is Why We Know That Poetry Is Like Bread; It Should Be Shared By All, By Scholars And By Peasants, By All Our Vast, Incredible, Extraordinary Family Of Humanity.

I Have Named You Queen. There Are Taller Than You, Taller. There Are Purer Than You, Purer. There Are Lovelier Than You, Lovelier. But You Are The Queen. When You Go Through The Streets No One Recognizes You. No One Sees Your Crystal Crown, No One Looks At The Carpet Of Red Gold That You Tread As You Pass, The Nonexistent Carpet. And When You Appear All The Rivers Sound In My Body, Bells Shake The Sky, And A Hymn Fills The World. Only You And I, Only You And I, My Love, Listen To It.

To Harden The Earth The Rocks Took Charge: Instantly They Grew Wings: The Rocks That Soared: The Survivors Flew Up The Lightning Bolt, Screamed In The Night, A Watermark, A Violet Sword, A Meteor. The Succulent Sky Had Not Only Clouds, Not Only Space Smelling Of Oxygen, But An Earthly Stone Flashing Here And There Changed Into A Dove, Changed Into A Bell, Into Immensity, Into A Piercing Wind: Into A Phosphorescent Arrow, Into Salt Of The Sky.

You Can Say Anything You Want, Yessir, But It's The Words That Sing, They Soar And Descend...i Bow To Them...i Love Them, I Cling To Them, I Run Them Down, I Bite Into Them, I Melt Them Down...i Love Words So Much...the Unexpected Ones...the Ones I Wait For Greedily Or Stalk Until, Suddenly, They Drop.

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