Each in the most hidden sack keptthe 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 scratchingmountain ranges or...

Soy el desesperado, la palabra sin ecos, el que lo perdiò todo, y el que todo lo tuvo.

If you think it long and mad the wind of banners that passes through my lifeAnd you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have rootsRememberThat on that day, at...

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 you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I want to see thirstIn the syllables,Tough fireIn the sound;Feel through the darkFor the scream.

Si todos los rios son dulcesde donde saca sal el mar?If all rivers are sweetwhere does the sea get its salt?

Every day you play with the light of the universe.

I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars, and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.” The night wind whirls in the sky and sings....

Love is a clash of lightnings

I move in the university of the waves.

Everything is ceremony in the wild garden of childhood.

You know how this is:if I lookat the crystal moon, at the red branchof the slow autumn at my window,if I touchnear the firethe impalpable ashor the wrinkled body of the log,everything carries me to...

A book,a book fullof human touches,of shirts,a bookwithout loneliness, with menand tools,a bookis victory.

I remember you with my soul clenched in that sadness of mine that you know.

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...

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Y algo golpeaba en mi alma, fiebre o alas perdidas, y me fui haciendo solo, descifrando aquella quemadura y escribí la primera línea vaga, vaga, sin cuerpo, pura, tontería pura sabiduría del que no sabe...

Fue adondo a mi me perdieronquw logre por fin encontrarme?Was it where they lost methat I finally found myself?

At night I dream that you and I are two plantsthat grew together, roots entwined,and that you know the earth and the rain like my mouth,since we are made of earth and rain.

We openthe halvesof a miracle,and a clotting of acidsbrimsinto the starrydivisions:creation’soriginal juices,irreducible, changeless,alive:so the freshness lives on

Don’t go far off, not even for a day,because I don’t know how to say it – a day is longand I will be waiting for you, as inan empty station when the trains areparked...

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 remembered you with my soul clenched

In one kiss, you’ll know all I haven’t said.

Take bread away from me, if you wish,take air away, butdo not take from me your laughter.Do not take away the rose,the lance flower that you pluck,the water that suddenlybursts forth in joy,the sudden waveof...

Tonight I Can WriteTonight I can write the saddest lines.Write, for example, ‘The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.Tonight I...

Like them you are tall and taciturn, and you are sad, all at once, like a voyage.

I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.

Well, nowIf little by little you stop loving meI shall stop loving youLittle by littleIf suddenly you forget meDo not look for meFor I shall already have forgotten youIf you think it long and mad...

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.

What will they say about my poetrywho never touched my blood?Que diran de mi poesialos que no tocaron mi sangre?

To harden the earththe rocks took charge:instantlythey grew wings:the rocksthat soared:the survivorsflew upthe lightning bolt,screamed in the night,a watermark,a violet sword,a meteor.The succulentskyhad not only clouds,not only space smelling of oxygen,but an earthly stoneflashing here...

So that you will hear memy wordssometimes grow thinas the tracks of the gulls on the beaches.Necklace, drunken bellfor your hands smooth as grapes.And I watch my words from a long way off.They are more...

Then love knew it was called love. And when I lifted my eyes to your name, suddenly your heart showed me my way

Our love was bornoutside the walls,in the wind,in the night,in the earth,and that’s why the clay and the flower,the mud and the rootsknow your name.

Now we will count to twelveand we will all keep still.For once on the face of the earthlet’s not speak in any language,let’s stop for one second,and not move our arms so much.It would be...

Quien descubre el quién soy descubrirá el quién eres.

Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.

De pronto no puedo decirtelo que yo te debo decir,hombre,perdóname; sabrásque aunque no escuches mis palabrasno me eché a llorar ni a dormiry que contigo estoy sin vertedesde hace tiempo y hasta el fin.I can’t...

If suddenly you do not exist,if suddenly you no longer live,I shall live on.I do not dare,I do not dare to write it,if you die.I shall live on.For where a man has no voice,there, my...

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.

I wantTo do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

It was at that agethat poetry came in search of me.

Hay una estrella mas abiertaque la palabra ‘amapola’?Is there a star more wide openthan the word ‘poppy”?

Yo no me calloPerdone el ciudadano esperanzadomi recuerdo de acciones miserables,que levantan los hombres del pasado.Yo predico un amor inexorable.Y no me importa perro ni persona:sólo el pueblo es en mí considerable:sólo la Patria a...

LXXIXWhen I die, I want your hands on my eyes.I want the light and wheat of your beloved hands to pass their freshness over me once moreLI want to feel the softness that changed my...

I am no longer in love with her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

So the freshness lives onin a lemon,in the sweet-smelling house of the rind,the proportions, arcane and acerb.