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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.

-Pablo Neruda

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Never An Illness, Nor

Pablo Neruda

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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.

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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.

Hay Algo Más Tonto En La Vida Que Llamarse Pablo Neruda? (is There Anything More Insane In This Life Than Being Called Pablo Neruda?)

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

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

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

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.

Why Wasn't Christopher Columbus Able To Discover Spain?

Then Love Knew It Was Called Love. And When I Lifted My Eyes To Your Name, Suddenly Your Heart Showed Me My Way

Without Doubt I Praise The Wild Excellence.

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

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.

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

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

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 Darkness Of A Day Elapsed, Of A Day Nourished With Our Sad Blood.

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

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

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

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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

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

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.

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

Love! Love Until The Night Collapses!

There Is No Space Wider Than That Of Grief.

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

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

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.

The Typewriter Separated Me From A Deeper Intimacy With Poetry, And My Hand Brought Me Closer To That Intimacy Again.

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?

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

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.

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

We Bear The Sole, Relentless Tenderness.

We Must Dream Our Way.

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.

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

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

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

Under Your Skin The Moon Is Alive.

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...

Then I Speak To Her In A Language She Has Never Heard, I Speak To Her In Spanish, In The Tongue Of The Long, Crepuscular Verses Of Díaz Casanueva; In That Language In Which Joaquín Edwards Preaches Nationalism. My Discourse Is Profound; I Speak With Eloquence And Seduction; My Words, More Than From Me, Issue From The Warm Nights, From The Many Solitary Nights On The Red Sea, And When The Tiny Dancer Puts Her Arm Around My Neck, I Understand That She Understands. Magnificent Language!

In Love, You Have Loosened Yourself Like Seawater

Love Is Short, But Forgetting Is Long.

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

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?

Hands Make The World Each Day.

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

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

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.

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

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

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?

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

It Was My Destiny To Love And Say Goodbye.

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.

Every Day You Play With The Light Of The Universe.

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.

I Learned About Life From Life Itself, Love I Learned In A Single Kiss And Could Teach No One Anything Except That I Have Lived With Something In Common Among Men.

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.

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

I Spin On The Circle Of Wave Upon Wave Of The Sea.

Love Is A Clash Of Lightnings

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

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.

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

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

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.

Laughter Is The Language Of The Soul.

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?

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

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.

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

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.

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.

From Sorrow To Sorrow Love Crosses Its Islands And Establishes Roots That Are Watered By Weeping.

Here I Came To The Very Edge Where Nothing At All Needs Saying, Everything Is Absorbed Through Weather And The Sea, And The Moon Swam Back, Its Rays All Silvered, And Time And Again The Darkness Would Be Broken By The Crash Of A Wave, And Every Day On The Balcony Of The Sea, Wings Open, Fire Is Born, And Everything Is Blue Again Like Morning.

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

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

And I Watch My Words From A Long Way Off. They Are More Yours Than Mine. They Climb On My Old Suffering Like Ivy. It Climbs The Same Way On Damp Walls. You Are To Blame For This Cruel Sport. They Are Fleeing From My Dark Lair. You Fill Everything, You Fill Everything. Before You They Peopled The Solitude That You Occupy, And They Are More Used To My Sadness Than You Are. Now I Want Them To Say What I Want To Say To You To Make You Hear As I Want You To Hear Me.

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

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.

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 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.

Let Us Forget With Generosity Those Who Cannot Love Us

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

Where Were You Then? Who Else Was There? Saying What? Why Will The Whole Of Love Come On Me Suddenly When I Am Sad And Feel You Are Far Away?

Love Is So Short, Forgetting Is So Long.

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.

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.

Love, How Many Roads To Obtain A Kiss.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

Everything Is Ceremony In The Wild Garden Of Childhood.

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?

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.

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.

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

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

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

Poetry Is An Act Of Peace.

I Move In The University Of The Waves.

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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.

I Was The Owner Of My Own Darkness.

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

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

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.

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

Give Me Your Hand Out Of The Depths Sown By Your Sorrows.

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

Nothing To Lose

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

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

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.

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?

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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 In Blood.

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

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.

Why Do Trees Conceal The Splendor Of Their Roots?

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.

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.

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

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.

In One Kiss, You'll Know All I Haven't Said.

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.

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.

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

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.

Am I Allowed To Ask My Book / Whether It's True I Wrote It?

I Need The Sea Because It Teaches Me

Love Is The Mystery Of Water And A Star.

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

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.

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

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.

The Hardest Way Of Learning Is That Of Easy Reading.

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

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.

In What Language Does Rain Fall Over Tormented Cities?

There Is No Insurmountable Solitude.

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

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.

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.

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 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!

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

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

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

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

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

To Love Is To Tilt With The Lightning, Two Bodies Routed By A Single Honey's Sweet.

Love Is Brief: Forgetting Lasts So Long.

Conspirators In Pajamas Who Exchange Deep Kisses For Passwords.

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.

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.

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.

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'?

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

Do Tears Not Yet Spilled Wait In Small Lakes?

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.

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

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.

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

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 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.

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.

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.

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

It's Hard To Tell / If We Close Our Eyes Or If Night / Opens In Us Other Starred Eyes, / If It Burrows Into The Wall Of Our Dream / Till Some Other Door Opens. / But The Dream Is Only The Flitting Costume Of One Moment, / Is Spent In One Beat / Of The Darkness, / And Falls At Our Feet, Cast Off / As The Day Stirs And Sails Away With Us.

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

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

Writing Poetry, We Live Among The Wild Beasts, And When We Touch A Man, The Stuff Of Someone In Whom We Believed, And He Goes To Pieces Like A Rotten Pie, You... Gather Together Whatever Can Be Salvaged, While I Cup My Hands Around The Live Coal Of Life.

In Your Eyes Of Mourning The Land Of Dreams Begins.

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