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Stone is a forehead where dreames grievewithout curving waters and frozen cypresses.Stone is a shoulder on which to bear Timewith trees formed of tears and ribbons and planets. I have seen grey showers move towards the wavesraising their tender riddle…
At five in the afternoon.It was exactly five in the afternoon.A boy brought the white sheetat five in the afternoon.A frail of lime ready preparedat five in the afternoon.The rest was death, and death alone. The wind carried away the…
The bull does not know you, nor the fig tree,nor the horses, nor the ants in your own house.The child and the afternoon do not know youbecause you have dead forever. The shoulder of the stone does not know younor…
Weeping,I go down the streetGrotesque, without solutionWith the sadness of CyranoAnd Quixote. RedeemingInfinite impossibilitiesWith the rhythm of the clock.
After rain, through afterglow, the unfolding fanof railway landscape sidled onthe pivotof a larger arc into the green of evening;I remembered that noon I saw a gradual budstill white; though dead in its warm bloom;always the enemy is the foe…
Woodcutter.Cut my shadow from me.Free me from the tormentof being without fruit. Why was I born among mirrors?Day goes round and round me.The night copies mein all its stars. I want to live without my reflection.And then let me dreamthat…
Playing her parchment moonPrecosia comesalong a watery path of laurels and crystal lights.The starless silence, fleeingfrom her rhythmic tambourine,falls where the sea whips and sings,his night filled with silvery swarms.High atop the mountain peaksthe sentinels are weeping;they guard the tall…
So I took her to the riverbelieving she was a maiden,but she already had a husband.It was on St. James nightand almost as if I was obliged to.The lanterns went outand the crickets lighted up.In the farthest street cornersI touched…
Never let me lose the marvelof your statue-like eyes, or the accentthe solitary rose of your breathplaces on my cheek at night. I am afraid of being, on this shore,a branchless trunk, and what I most regretis having no flower,…
I know that my profile will be serenein the north of an unreflecting sky.Mercury of vigil, chaste mirrorto break the pulse of my style. For if ivy and the cool of linenare the norm of the body I leave…