I learned about lifefrom life itself,love I learned in a single kissand could teach no one anythingexcept that I have livedwith something in common among men.

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.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.

De noche, amada, amarra tu corazón al míoy que ellos en el sueño derroten las tinieblas

You came to my lifewith what you were bringing,madeof 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 tomorrowthat which I...

Absence is a house so vast that inside you will pass through its walls and hang pictures on the air.

Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde, te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo: así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera, sino así de este modo en que no...

Sufre mas el que espera siempreque aquel que nunca espero a nadie?Does he who is always waiting suffer more than he who’s never waited for anyone?

Peace goes into the making of a poem as flour goes into the making of bread.

As if you were on fire from within.The moon lives in the lining of your skin.

Green was the silence, wet was the light,the month of June trembled like a butterfly.

He dormido contigoy al despertar tu bocasalida de tu sueñome dio el sabor de tierra,de agua

Yo te he nombrado reina.Hay más altas que tú, más altas.Hay más puras que tú, más puras.Hay más bellas que tú, hay más bellas.Pero tú eres la reina.Cuando vas por las callesnadie te reconoce.Nadie ve...

He vivido tanto que un díatendrán que olvidarme por fuerza.

Love! Love until the night collapses!

PoetryAnd it was at that age… 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, no, they...

Como se reparten el sol en el naranjo las naranjas?How do the oranges divide up sunlight in the orange tree?

While I’m writing, I’m far away;and when I come back, I’ve gone.

You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.

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?

Por que en las epocas oscurasse escribe con tinta invisible?Why in the darkest agesdo they write with invisible ink?

I like on the table,when we’re speaking,the light of a bottleof intelligent wine.

If You Forget MeI want you to knowone thing.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...

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.

How did the abandoned bicycle win its freedom?

Es una copa llenade aguael mundo.

The moon lives in the lining of your skin.

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 streetsNo one recognizes you.No one sees your...

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,...

Cumpliendo con mi oficiopiedra con piedra, pluma a pluma,pasa el invierno y dejasitios abandonados,habitaciones muertas:yo trabajo y trabajo,debo substituirtantos olvidos,llenar de pan las tinieblas,fundar otra vez la esperanza.

Someday, somewhere – anywhere, unfailingly, you’ll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.

Donde termina el arco iris,en tu alma o en el horizonte?Where does the rainbow end,in your soul or on the horizon?

yo te amo para comenzar a amarte,para recomenzar el infinitoy para no dejar de amarte nunca:por eso no te amo todavía.

Die slowlyHe who becomes the slave of habit,who follows the same routes every day,who never changes pace,who does not risk and change the color of his clothes,who does not speak and does not experience,dies slowly.He...

My love, suddenlyyour hipis the curve of the wineglassfilled to the brim,your breast is the cluster,your hair the light of alcohol,your nipples, the grapesyour navel pure sealstamped on your barrel of a belly,and your love...

You are like nobody since I love you.

Poetry is an act of peace. Peace goes into the making of a poet as flour goes into the making of bread.

Madre de piedra, espuma de los cóndores.Alto arrecife de la aurora humana.Pala perdida en la primera arena.

Girl lithe and tawny, the sun that forms the fruits, that plumps the grains, that curls seaweed filled your body with joy, and your luminous eyes and your mouth that has the smile of the...

I had no more alphabetthan the journeying of the swallows,the pure and tiny waterof the small, fiery birdthat dances rising from the pollen.