To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.
To see you naked is to recall the Earth.
But hurry, let's entwine ourselves as one, our mouth broken, our soul bitten by love, so time discovers us safely destroyed.
I've often lost myself, in order to find the burn that keeps everything awake
I know there is no straight road No straight road in this world Only a giant labyrinth Of intersecting crossroads
...I am the immense shadow of my tears
Only mystery allows us to live, only mystery.
Today in my heart a vague trembling of stars and all roses are as white as my pain.
At the heart of all great art is an essential melancholy.
As I have not worried to be born, I do not worry to die.
We're all curious about what might hurt us.
Pero yo ya no soy yo Ni mi casa es ya mi casa. But now I am no longer I, nor is my house any longer my house.
My head is full of fire and grief and my tongue runs wild, pierced with shards of glass.
In Spain the dead are more alive than the dead of any other country in the world.
If blue is dream what then innocence? What awaits the heart if Love bears no arrows?
The night below. We two. Crystal of pain. You wept over great distances. My ache was a clutch of agonies over your sickly heart of sand.
If I told you the whole story it would never end...What's happened to me has happened to a thousand woman.
¡Ay qué trabajo me cuesta, quererte como te quiero!
I put my head out of my window and see how much the wind’s knife wants to slice it off. On this unseen guillotine, I’ve placed the eyeless head of all my desires.
Don't ask me any questions. I've seen how things that seek their way find their void instead.
I want to sleep for half a second, a second, a minute, a century, but I want everyone to know that I'm still alive...
A poet must be a professor of the five senses and must open doors among them.
From New Heart Like a snake, my heart has shed its skin. I hold it here in my hand, full of honey and wounds.
Death laid its eggs in the wound
The important thing in life is to let the years carry us along.
I'll go to Santiago. And the banana tree a jellyfish.
Set in place the lovers who will afterwards be photographs.
After Passing By The children watch a distant point. Lamps go out. Some blind girls question the moon and spirals of grief rise in the air. The mountains survey a distant point.
Here I want to see those men of hard voice. Those that break horses and dominate rivers; those men of sonorous skeleton who sing with a mouth full of sun and flint.
Every Song Every song is the remains of love. Every light the remains of time. A knot of time. And every sigh the remains of a cry.
