Fue adondo a mi me perdieron quw logre por fin encontrarme? Was it where they lost me that I finally found myself?.

Hour of nostalgia, hour of happiness, hour of solitude..

I've come within range of hate. Terrifying, its tremors, its dizzying obsessions. Hate's like a swordfish invisible in the water, knifing suddenly in….

And that's why i have to go back to so many places there to find myself and constantly examine myself with no witness but the moon and then whistle w….

Why wasn't Christopher Columbus able to discover Spain?.

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

Like a jar you housed the infinite tenderness, and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar..

Your house sounds like a train at midday, the wasps buzz, the saucepans sing, the waterfall enumerates the deeds of the dew . . ..

On our earth, before writing was invented, before the printing press was invented, poetry flourished. That is why we know that poetry is like bread; ….

Death is the stone into which our oblivion hardens..

Sonnet XXV Before I loved you, love, nothing was my own: I wavered through the streets, among Objects: Nothing mattered or had a name: The world was ….

The morning is full of storm in the heart of summer. The clouds travel like white handkerchiefs of goodbye, the wind, travelling, waving them in its ….

I walked around as you do, investigating the endless star, and in my net, during the night, I woke up naked, the only thing caught, a fish trapped in….

Latin America is very fond of the word "hope." We like to be called the "continent of hope." Candidates for deputy, senator, president, call themselv….

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

I want to see the thirst inside the syllables I want to touch the fire in the sound: I want to feel the darkness of the cry. I want words as rough as….

O happy childhood! blessed youth! But once we know thy potent power; But once we live all careless free; No cross to mar our love-lit bower..

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

I should like to sleep like a cat, with all the fur of time, with a tongue rough as flint, with the dry sex of fire; and after speaking to no one, st….

Someone will ask later, sometimes searching for a name, his own or someone's else's why I neglected his sadness or his love... But I didn't have enou….

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