The Weeping
I have shut my windows. I do not want to hear the weeping. But from behind the grey walls. Nothing is heard but the weeping. There are few angels that sing. There are few
Balada Amarilla IV
Sobre el cielo De las margaritas ando. Yo imagino esta tarde Que soy santo. Me pusieron la luna En las manos. Yo la puse otra vez En los espacios Y el Seсor me premiу
Romance Sonбmbulo
Green, how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship out on the sea And the horse on the mountain. With the shade around her waist She dreams on her balcony, Green
The Faithless Wife
So I took her to the river Believing she was a maiden, But she already had a husband. It was on St. James night And almost as if I was obliged to. The lanterns
Before the Dawn
But like love The archers Are blind Upon the green night, The piercing saetas Leave traces of warm Lily. The keel of the moon Breaks through purple clouds And their quivers Fill with dew.
Serenata
The night soaks itself Along the shore of the river And in Lolita’s breasts The branches die of love. The branches die of love. Naked the night sings Above the bridges of March. Lolita
The Little Mute Boy
The litle boy was looking for his voice. (The King of the crickets had it.) In a drop of water The little boy was looking for his voice. I do not want it for
Fare Well
If I die, Leave the balcony open. The little boy is eating oranges. (From my balcony I can see him.) The reaper is harvesting the wheat. (From my balcony I can hear him.) If
Soneto
Largo espectro de plata conmovida El viento de la noche suspirando, Abriу con mano gris mi vieja herida Y se alejу: yo estaba deseando. Llaga de amor que me darб la vida Perpetua sangre
Muriу Al Amanecer
Noche de cuatro lunas Y un solo бrbol, Con una sola sombra Y un solo pбjaro. Busco en mi carne las Huellas de tus labios. El manantial besa al viento Sin tocarlo. Llevo el
Gacela of Unforseen Love
No one understood the perfume Of the dark magnolia of your womb. Nobody knew that you tormented A hummingbird of love between your teeth. A thousand Persian little horses fell asleep In the plaza
Arbolй, Arbolй
Tree, tree Dry and green. The girl with the pretty face Is out picking olives. The wind, playboy of towers, Grabs her around the waist. Four riders passed by On Andalusian ponies, With blue
Landscape of a Vomiting Multitude
The fat lady came out first, Tearing out roots and moistening drumskins. The fat lady Who turns dying octopuses inside out. The fat lady, the moon’s antagonist, Was running through the streets and deserted
City That Does Not Sleep
In the sky there is nobody asleep. Nobody, nobody. Nobody is asleep. The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins. The living iguanas will come and bite the men who do
Ditty of First Desire
In the green morning I wanted to be a heart. A heart. And in the ripe evening I wanted to be a nightingale. A nightingale. (Soul, Turn orange-colored. Soul, Turn the color of love.)