POETRY

MAP OF THE NEW WORLD: ARCHIPELAGOES At the end of this sentence, rain will begin. At the rain’s edge, a sail. Slowly the sail will lose sight of islands. Into a mist will go the belief in harbors of an entire race. The ten-years war is finished. Helen’s hair, a gray cloud. Troy, a white ashpit by the drizzling sea. …

DOS AMANTES DICHOSOS > Dos amantes dichosos hacen un solo pan, una sola gota de luna en la hierba, dejan andando dos sombras que se reúnen, dejan un solo sol vacío en una cama. De todas las verdades escogieron el día: no se ataron con hilos sino con un aroma, y no despedazaron la paz ni las palabras. La dicha …

LOS INFIMOS CREPUSCOLOS > Amo las cosas que gastadas brillan como si los crepúsculos se hubieran quedado en ellas para siempre ardiendo. Los bordes de las sillas afinados por la devoción clara de los dedos. Los vasos transparentes de servir manantiales destantes. Los pisos sometidos a la sombra. Los trajes deshilados por el aire. Amo su fatigada servidumbre de diamante …

YO NO LO SE DE CIERTO > Yo no lo sé de cierto, pero supongo que una mujer y un hombre un día se quieren, se van quedando solos poco a poco, algo en su corazón les dice que están solos, solos sobre la tierra se penetran, se van matando el uno al otro. Todo se hace en silencio. Como …

PETALOS AL ALBA > Cuarto por cuarto, lámpara por lámpara, los edificios amanecen y en derredor la lluvia abre sus pétalos con un lento susurro que recorre sedas y cortinajes. Dormidos dentro de una flor que se alza demasiado despacio sobre el mundo. Aún ignoramos de qué país remoto nos ha traído el sueño, pero nos consta que entre noche …

MY SOUL My soul, close your eyes slowly, and as you immerse yourself in the water sinks into sleep, naked and dressed in white, the most beautiful of dreams will welcome you. My soul, close your eyes slowly you abandoned as over my arms, do not forget me in your sleep, close your eyes slowly, your brown eyes where a …

THE STORY OF OUR LIVES 1/7 We are reading the story of our lives, which takes place in a room. The room looks out on a street. There is no one there, no sound of anything. The trees are heavy with leaves, the parked cars never move. We keep turning the pages, hoping for something, something like mercy or change, …

THE THINGS The coins, the stick, the keychain, the quick lock, the later notes that they can not read my few days, playing cards and chess board, a book and the pages dried violet, monument of a certain evening unforgettable and forgotten, the red in the west mirror in which burns illusory an aurora. How many things, atlases, lime, thresholds, …

IF YOU COULD SAY TO THE HEART If the heart you could say: do not rush! If I could order him: burns! Already it goes out. Still a shoe, yet a hand, still a little ring by sewing, before the key turns, and opens that door, in which we enter and weep, for that tremendous beauty that is called life. …

THE POISON The wine can play the most sordid hovel, with a marvelous luxury, and raises more than a fabulous porch, in the gold of its red vapor like a setting sun, in a cloudy sky. Open this opium that which has no boundaries, stretches the unlimited, makes deep time, increases pleasure, and pleasures dark and gloomy fills the soul, …