Only Mystery Allows Us To Live, Only

While The Poet Wrestles With The Horses On His Brain And The Sculptor Wounds His Eyes On The Hard Spark Of Alabaster, The Dancer Battles The Air Around Her, Air That Threatens At Any Moment To Destroy Her Harmony Or To Open Huge Open Empty Spaces Where Her Rhythm Will Be Annihilated.

The Little Mute Boy The Little 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 Speaking With; I Will Make A Ring Of It So That He May Wear My Silence On His Little Finger In A Drop Of Water The Little Boy Was Looking For His Voice. (the Captive Voice, Far Away, Put On A Cricket's Clothes.) Translated By William S. Merwin

Never Let Me Lose The Marvel Of Your Statue-like Eyes, Or The Accent The Solitary Rose Of Your Breath Places On My Cheek At Night. I Am Afraid Of Being, On This Shore, A Branchless Trunk, And What I Most Regret Is Having No Flower, Pulp, Or Clay For The Worm Of My Despair. If You Are My Hidden Treasure, If You Are My Cross, My Dampened Pain, If I Am A Dog, And You Alone My Master, Never Let Me Lose What I Have Gained, And Adorn The Branches Of Your River With Leaves Of My Estranged Autumn.

Variación / Variations El Remanso De Aire Bajo La Rama Del Eco. El Remanso Del Agua Bajo Fronda De Luceros. El Remanso De Tu Boca Bajo Espesura De Besos. * The Still Waters Of The Air Under The Bough Of The Echo. The Still Waters Of The Water Under A Frond Of Stars. The Still Waters Of Your Mouth Under A Thicket Of Kisses. Translated From The Spanish By Lysander Kemp

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.