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I've Come Within Range Of Hate. Terrifying, Its Tremors, Its Dizzying Obsessions. Hate's Like A Swordfish Invisible In The Water, Knifing Suddenly Into Sight With Blood On Its Blade- Clear Water Misleads You.

-Pablo Neruda

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I've Come Within Range

Pablo Neruda

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I've Come Within Range Of Hate. Terrifying, Its Tremors, Its Dizzying Obsessions. Hate's Like A Swordfish Invisible In The Water, Knifing Suddenly Into Sight With Blood On Its Blade- Clear Water Misleads You.

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O Happy Childhood! Blessed Youth! But Once We Know Thy Potent Power; But Once We Live All Careless Free; No Cross To Mar Our Love-lit Bower.

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

I Grew Up In This Town, My Poetry Was Born Between The Hill And The River, It Took Its Voice From The Rain, And Like The Timber, It Steeped Itself In The Forests.

Oh Love, Rose Made Wet By Mermaids And Foams, Fire That Dances And Climbs Up The Invisible Stairs And Awakens The Blood In The Tunnel Of Sleeplessness.

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.

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.

She Did Not Speak For Speech Was Unknown To Her.

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.

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.

The Ardent Hymn That Unites Peoples.

The Bare Earth, Plantless, Waterless, Is An Immense Puzzle. In The Forests Or Beside Rivers Everything Speaks To Humans. The Desert Does Not Speak. I Could Not Comprehend Its Tongue; Its Silence...

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

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

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

Tie Your Heart At Night To Mine, Love, And Both Will Defeat The Darkness Like Twin Drums Beating In The Forest Against The Heavy Wall Of Wet Leaves. Night Crossing: Black Coal Of Dream That Cuts The Thread Of Earthly Orbs With The Punctuality Of A Headlong Train That Pulls Cold Stone And Shadow Endlessly. Love, Because Of It, Tie Me To A Purer Movement, To The Grip On Life That Beats In Your Breast, With The Wings Of A Submerged Swan, So That Our Dream Might Reply To The Sky's Questioning Stars With One Key, One Door Closed To Shadow.

We Bear The Sole, Relentless Tenderness.

The Road Made Wet By The Water Of August Shines Like It Was Cut In Full Moonlight

I Don't Want To Go On Being A Root In The Dark, Vacillating, Stretched Out, Shivering With Sleep, Downward, In The Soaked Guts Of The Earth, Absorbing And Thinking, Eating Each Day.

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

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.

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.

In You Is The Illusion Of Each Day. You Arrive Like The Dew To The Cupped Flowers. You Undermine The Horizon With Your Absence. Eternally In Flight Like The Wave.

You Came To My Life With What You Were Bringing, Made Of Light And Bread And Shadow I Expected You, And Like This I Need You, Like This I Love You, And To Those Who Want To Hear Tomorrow That Which I Will Not Tell Them, Let Them Read It Here, And Let Them Back Off Today Because It Is Early For These Arguments.

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'?

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

When Did The Lemons Learn The Same Creed As The Sun?

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!

I Love All Things, Not Because They Are Passionate Or Sweet-smelling But Because, I Don't Know, Because This Ocean Is Yours, And Mine: These Buttons And Wheels And Little Forgotten Treasures, Fans Upon Whose Feathers Love Has Scattered Its Blossoms, Glasses, Knives And Scissors -- All Bear The Trace Of Someone's Fingers On Their Handle Or Surface, The Trace Of A Distant Hand Lost In The Depths Of Forgetfulness.

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.

Laughter Is The Language Of The Soul.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

Will Our Life Not Be A Tunnel Between Two Vague Clarities? Or Will It Not Be A Clarity Between Two Dark Triangles?

I Was The Owner Of My Own Darkness.

Of Everything I Have Seen, It's You I Want To Go On Seeing: Of Everything I've Touched, It's Your Flesh I Want To Go On Touching. I Love Your Orange Laughter. I Am Moved By The Sight Of You Sleeping. What Am I To Do, Love, Loved One? I Don't Know How Others Love Or How People Loved In The Past. I Live, Watching You, Loving You. Being In Love Is My Nature.

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.

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

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

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.

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

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

In The House Of Poetry Nothing Endures That Is Not Written With Blood To Be Heard With Blood.

Let Us Look For Secret Things Somewhere In The World On The Blue Shore Of Silence Or Where The Storm Has Passed Rampaging Like A Train. There The Faint Signs Are Left, Coins Of Time And Water, Debris ,celestial Ash And The Irreplaceable Rapture Of Sharing In The Labour Of Soitude In The Sand.

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.

I've Come Within Range Of Hate. Terrifying, Its Tremors, Its Dizzying Obsessions. Hate's Like A Swordfish Invisible In The Water, Knifing Suddenly Into Sight With Blood On Its Blade- Clear Water Misleads You.

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

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.

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

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

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.

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.

Poetry Is An Act Of Peace.

From Scarlet To Powdered Gold, To Blazing Yellow, To The Rare Ashen Emerald, To The Orange And Black Velvet Of Your Shimmering Corselet, Out To The Tip That Like An Amber Thorn Begins You, Small, Superlative Being, You Are A Miracle, And You Blaze

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

And It Follows That I Am, Because You Are: It Follows From 'you Are', That I Am, And We: And, Because Of Love, You Will, I Will, We Will, Come To Be.

Why Wasn't Christopher Columbus Able To Discover Spain?

De Pronto No Puedo Decirte Lo Que Yo Te Debo Decir, Hombre,perdóname; Sabrás Que Aunque No Escuches Mis Palabras No Me Eché A Llorar Ni A Dormir Y Que Contigo Estoy Sin Verte Desde Hace Tiempo Y Hasta El Fin. I Can't Just Suddenly Tell You What I Should Be Telling You, Friend, Forgive Me; You Know That Although You Don't Hear My Words, I Wasn't Asleep Or In Tears, That I Am With You Without Seeing You For A Good Long Time And Until The End.

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.

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

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

Ah, Love Is A Voyage With Water And A Star, In Drowning Air And Squalls Of Precipitate Bran; Love Is A War Of Lights In The Lightning Flashes, Two Bodies Blasted In A Single Burst Of Honey.

Love Is Not About Property, Diamonds And Gifts. It Is About Sharing Your Very Self With The World Around You.

Someday, Somewhere - Anywhere, Unfailingly, You'll Find Yourself, And That, And Only That, Can Be The Happiest Or Bitterest Hour Of Your Life.

Finding Yourself

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.

Without Doubt I Praise The Wild Excellence.

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

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

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

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.

Oh To Follow The Road That Leads Away From Everything, Without Anguish, Death, Winter Waiting Along It With Their Eyes Open Through The Dew.

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

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

Perhaps The Earth Can Teach Us As When Everything Seems Dead And Later Proves To Be Alive

Love Is Short, But Forgetting Is Long.

I Love You As One Loves Certain Dark Things.

We Open The Halves Of A Miracle, And A Clotting Of Acids Brims Into The Starry Divisions: Creation's Original Juices, Irreducible, Changeless, Alive: So The Freshness Lives On

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

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

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

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?

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

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.

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?

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.

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

In What Language Does Rain Fall Over Tormented Cities?

I Had No More Alphabet Than The Journeying Of The Swallows, The Pure And Tiny Water Of The Small, Fiery Bird That Dances Rising From The Pollen.

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

I Want To See Thirst In The Syllables, Tough Fire In The Sound; Feel Through The Dark For The Scream.

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

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?

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?

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.

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.

Only Do Not Forget, If I Wake Up Crying It's Only Because In My Dream I'm A Lost Child Hunting Through The Leaves Of The Night For Your Hands.

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.

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

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.

Love Is Brief: Forgetting Lasts So Long.

Hate Is Like A Swordfish, Working Through Water Invisibly And Then You See It Coming With Blood Along Its Blade, But Transparency Disarms It.

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.

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.

The Days Aren't Discarded Or Collected, They Are Bees That Burned With Sweetness Or Maddened The Sting: The Struggle Continues, The Journeys Go And Come Between Honey And Pain. No, The Net Of Years Doesn't Unweave: There Is No Net. They Don't Fall Drop By Drop From A River: There Is No River. Sleep Doesn't Divide Life Into Halves, Or Action, Or Silence, Or Honor: Life Is Like A Stone, A Single Motion, A Lonesome Bonfire Reflected On The Leaves, An Arrow, Only One, Slow Or Swift, A Metal That Climbs Or Descends Burning In Your Bones.

Girl Lithe And Tawny, The Sun That Forms The Fruits, That Plumps The Grains, That Curls Seaweeds Filled Your Body With Joy, And Your Luminous Eyes And Your Mouth That Has The Smile Of The Water. A Black Yearning Sun Is Braided Into The Strands Of Your Black Mane, When You Stretch Your Arms. You Play With The Sun As With A Little Brook And It Leaves Two Dark Pools In Your Eyes.

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

Pale Blind Diver, Luckless Slinger, Lost Discoverer, In You Everything Sank!

I Love All Things, Not Only The Grand But The Infinitely Small: Thimble, Spurs, Plates, Flower Vases.

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.

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

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.

Why Do Trees Conceal The Splendor Of Their Roots?

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.

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.

Look Around—there's Only One Thing Of Danger For You Here—poetry.

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

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.

I Have Forgotten Your Love, Yet I Seem To Glimpse You In Every Window.

For Now I Ask No More Than The Justice Of Eating.

I Crave Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair.

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?

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

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

As Slippery As Smooth Grapes, Words Exploding In The Light Like Dormant Seeds Waiting In The Vaults Of Vocabulary, Alive Again, And Giving Life: Once Again The Heart Distills Them.

Love, How Many Roads To Obtain A Kiss.

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

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.

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

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.

Each In The Most Hidden Sack Kept The Lost Jewels Of Memory, Intense Love, Secret Nights And Permanent Kisses, The Fragment Of Public Or Private Happiness. A Few, The Wolves, Collected Thighs, Other Men Loved The Dawn Scratching Mountain Ranges Or Ice Floes, Locomotives, Numbers. For Me Happiness Was To Share Singing, Praising, Cursing, Crying With A Thousand Eyes. I Ask Forgiveness For My Bad Ways: My Life Had No Use On Earth.

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.

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.

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.

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

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

What Did The Earth Teach The Trees? How To Speak To The Sky.

Under Your Skin The Moon Is Alive.

Love, What A Long Way, To Arrive At A Kiss.

Love! Love Until The Night Collapses!

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

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

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

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

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

You Are Like Nobody Since I Love You.

It Was My Destiny To Love And Say Goodbye.

I Want To See The Thirst Inside The Syllables I Want To Touch The Fire In The Sound: I Want To Feel The Darkness Of The Cry. I Want Words As Rough As Virgin Rocks.” - Verb.

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

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

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 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.

Love Has To Be…flowering Like The Stars, And Measureless As A Kiss.

Tonight I Can Write The Saddest Lines...though This Be The Last Pain That She Makes Me Suffer And These The Last Verses That I Write For Her.

Do Tears Not Yet Spilled Wait In Small Lakes?

I'm Not Me But Living Matter Fermenting And Forming Its Own Shapes In The Fruitfulness Of Every Day.

I Love You Without Knowing How, Or When, Or From Where. I Love You Simply, Without Problems Or Pride: I Love You In This Way Because I Do Not Know Any Other Way Of Loving But This, In Which There Is No I Or You, So Intimate That Your Hand Upon My Chest Is My Hand, So Intimate That When I Fall Asleep Your Eyes Close.

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

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

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

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.

Take It All Back. Life Is Boring, Except For Flowers, Sunshine, Your Perfect Legs. A Glass Of Cold Water When You Are Really Thirsty. The Way Bodies Fit Together. Fresh And Young And Sweet. Coffee In The Morning. These Are Just Moments. I Struggle With The In-betweens. I Just Want To Never Stop Loving Like There Is Nothing Else To Do, Because What Else Is There To Do?

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

My Soul Is An Empty Carousel At Sunset.

Everything Is Ceremony In The Wild Garden Of Childhood.

In Your Eyes Of Mourning The Land Of Dreams Begins.

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.

My Duty Moves Along With My Song: I Am I Am Not: That Is My Destiny. I Exist Not If I Do Not Attend To The Pain Of Those Who Suffer: They Are My Pains. For I Cannot Be Without Existing For All, For All Who Are Silent And Oppressed, I Come From The People And I Sing For Them: My Poetry Is Song And Punnishment.

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

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.

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

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.

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

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

So The Freshness Lives On In A Lemon, In The Sweet-smelling House Of The Rind, The Proportions, Arcane And Acerb.

There's A Country Spread Out In The Sky, A Credulous Carpet Of Rainbows And Crepuscular Plants: I Move Toward It Just A Bit Haggardly, Trampling A Gravedigger's Rubble Still Moist From The Spade To Dream In A Bedlam Of Vegetables.

Raw Hatred Took Its Time Making An Outpost Of Its Rage And Prepared For Me A Savage Crown With Rusty, Bloodstained Spikes. It Wasn't Pride That Made Me Keep My Heart At A Distance From Such Terror, Nor Did I Waste On Revenge Or The Pursuit Of Power The Forces That Came From My Selfish Griefs Or My Accumulated Joys. It Was Something Else-my Helplessness.

Love Is A Clash Of Lightnings

Sufre Mas El Que Espera Siempre Que Aquel Que Nunca Espero A Nadie? Does He Who Is Always Waiting Suffer More Than He Who’s Never Waited For Anyone?

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

Long Distance Relationship

We Are Dust And To Dust Return. In The End We're Neither Air, Nor Fire, Nor Water, Just Dirt, Neither More Nor Less, Just Dirt, And Maybe Some Yellow Flowers.

Love Is The Mystery Of Water And A Star.

I Stroll Along Serenely, With My Eyes, My Shoes, My Rage, Forgetting Everything, I Walk By, Going Through Office Buildings And Orthopedic Shops, And Courtyards With Washing Hanging From The Line: Underwear, Towels And Shirts From Which Slow Dirty Tears Are Falling.

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.

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.

There Is No Space Wider Than That Of Grief.

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

Love Is A War Of Lightning, And Two Bodies Ruined By A Single Sweetness.

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.

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

The Hardest Way Of Learning Is That Of Easy Reading.

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

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.

Death Is The Stone Into Which Our Oblivion Hardens.

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.

Tell Me, Is The Rose Naked Or Is That Her Only Dress? Why Do Trees Conceal The Splendor Of Their Roots? Who Hears The Regrets Of The Thieving Automobile? Is There Anything In The World Sadder Than A Train Standing In The Rain?

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Christopher McDougall

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