Give me your hand out of the depths sown by your sorrows.
Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain. I love you still among these cold things. Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels that cross the sea towards no arrival. I see myself forgotten like those old anchors. The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there. My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose. I love what I do not have. You are so far. My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights. But night comes and starts to sing to me.
I love you as one loves certain dark things.
Two things make a story. The net and the air that falls through the net.
so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
I am not jealous of what came before me. Come with a man on your shoulders, come with a hundred men in your hair, come with a thousand men between your breasts and your feet, come like a river full of drowned men which flows down to the wild sea, to the eternal surf, to Time! Bring them all to where I am waiting for you; we shall always be alone, we shall always be you and I alone on earth, to start our life!
I need the sea because it teaches me
I was the owner of my own darkness.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every window.
A child who does not play is not a child, but the man who doesn't play has lost forever the child who lived in him and who he will miss terribly.
He who has nothing—it has been said many times—has nothing to lose but his chains.
sometimes i get up at dawn, and even my soul is wet.
Without doubt I praise the wild excellence.
With which stars do they go on speaking,the rivers that never reach the sea?
In what language does rain fall over tormented cities?
Shyness is a condition foreign to the heart - a category, a dimension which leads to loneliness.
Love is a war of lightning, and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness. Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity, your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages, and a genital fire, transformed by delight, slips through the narrow channels of blood to precipitate a nocturnal carnation, to be, and be nothing but light in the dark.
Conspirators in pajamas who exchange deep kisses for passwords.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body... and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
Everything is ceremony in the wild garden of childhood.
I have slept with you all night long while the dark earth spins with the living and the dead, and on waking suddenly in the midst of the shadow my arm encircled your waist. Neither night nor sleep could separate us.
Loving is a journey with water and with stars, with smothered air and abrupt storms of flour: loving is a clash of lightning-bolts and two bodies defeated by a single drop of honey.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
No, my dog used to gaze at me, paying me the attention I need, the attention required to make a vain person like me understand that, being a dog, he was wasting time, but, with those eyes so much purer than mine, he’d keep on gazing at me with a look that reserved for me alone all his sweet and shaggy life, always near me, never troubling me, and asking nothing.
Give me silence, water, hope Give me struggle, iron, volcanoes.
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