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So that you will hear me

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So that you will hear me my words sometimes grow thin as the tracks of the gulls on the beaches. Necklace, drunken bell for your hands smooth as grapes. And…

Puedo Escribir

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Puedo escribir los versos mas tristes esta noche. Escribir, por ejemplo: ‘La noche esta estrellada, y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos.’ El viento de la noche gira en…

Potter

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Your whole body has a fullness or a gentleness destined for me. When I move my hand up I find in each place a dove that was seeking me, as…

Poor Creatures

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What it takes on this planet, to make love to each other in peace. Everyone pries under your sheets, everyone interferes with your loving. They say terrible things about a…

Poetry

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And it was at that age… Poetry arrived in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don’t know…

Poet’s Obligation

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To whoever is not listening to the sea this Friday morning, to whoever is cooped up in house or office, factory or woman or street or mine or harsh prison…

Poesia

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Y fue a esa edad… Llegó la poesía a buscarme. No sé, no sé de dónde salió, de invierno o río. No sé cómo ni cuándo, no, no eran voces,…

Perhaps Not To Be Is To Be Without Your Being

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Perhaps not to be is to be without your being, without your going, that cuts noon light like a blue flower, without your passing later through fog and stones, without…

Ode To Wine

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Day-colored wine, night-colored wine, wine with purple feet or wine with topaz blood, wine, starry child of earth, wine, smooth as a golden sword, soft as lascivious velvet, wine, spiral-seashelled…

Ode To Tomatoes

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The street filled with tomatoes, midday, summer, light is halved like a tomato, its juice runs through the streets. In December, unabated, the tomato invades the kitchen, it enters at…

Ode To The Onion

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Onion, luminous flask, your beauty formed petal by petal, crystal scales expanded you and in the secrecy of the dark earth your belly grew round with dew. Under the earth…

Ode To The Lemon

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From blossoms released by the moonlight, from an aroma of exasperated love, steeped in fragrance, yellowness drifted from the lemon tree, and from its plantarium lemons descended to the earth.…

Ode To The Book

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When I close a book I open life. I hear faltering cries among harbours. Copper ignots slide down sand-pits to Tocopilla. Night time. Among the islands our ocean throbs with…

Ode To The Artichoke

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The artichoke With a tender heart Dressed up like a warrior, Standing at attention, it built A small helmet Under its scales It remained Unshakeable, By its side The crazy…

Ode To Salt

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This salt in the saltcellar I once saw in the salt mines. I know you won’t believe me, but it sings, salt sings, the skin of the salt mines sings…

Ode To Sadness

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Sadness, scarab with seven crippled feet, spiderweb egg, scramble-brained rat, bitch’s skeleton: No entry here. Don’t come in. Go away. Go back south with your umbrella, go back north with…

Ode to My Socks

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Mara Mori brought me a pair of socks which she knitted herself with her sheepherder’s hands, two socks as soft as rabbits. I slipped my feet into them as if…

Ode To Maize

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America, from a grain of maize you grew to crown with spacious lands the ocean foam. A grain of maize was your geography. From the grain a green lance rose,…

Ode To Conger Chowder

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In the storm-tossed Chilean sea lives the rosy conger, giant eel of snowy flesh. And in Chilean stewpots, along the coast, was born the chowder, thick and succulent, a boon…

Ode to Clothes

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Every morning you wait, clothes, over a chair, to fill yourself with my vanity, my love, my hope, my body. Barely risen from sleep, I relinquish the water, enter your…

Ode To Broken Things

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Things get broken at home like they were pushed by an invisible, deliberate smasher. It’s not my hands or yours It wasn’t the girls with their hard fingernails or the…

Ode To Bird Watching

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Now Let’s look for birds! The tall iron branches in the forest, The dense fertility on the ground. The world is wet. A dewdrop or raindrop shines, a diminutive star…

Ode To an Artichoke

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The artichoke of delicate heart erect in its battle-dress, builds its minimal cupola; keeps stark in its scallop of scales. Around it, demoniac vegetables bristle their thicknesses, devise tendrils and…

Ode To A Naked Beauty

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With chaste heart, and pure eyes I celebrate you, my beauty, restraining my blood so that the line surges and follows your contour, and you bed yourself in my verse,…

Ode To a Lemon

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Out of lemon flowers loosed on the moonlight, love’s lashed and insatiable essences, sodden with fragrance, the lemon tree’s yellow emerges, the lemons move down from the tree’s planetarium Delicate…

Ode To a Large Tuna in the Market

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Among the market greens, a bullet from the ocean depths, a swimming projectile, I saw you, dead. All around you were lettuces, sea foam of the earth, carrots, grapes, but…

Ode To a Chestnut on the Ground

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From bristly foliage you fell complete, polished wood, gleaming mahogany, as perfect as a violin newly born of the treetops, that falling offers its sealed-in gifts, the hidden sweetness that…

Nothing But Death

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There are cemeteries that are lonely, graves full of bones that do not make a sound, the heart moving through a tunnel, in it darkness, darkness, darkness, like a shipwreck…

Nothing But Death

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There are cemeteries that are lonely, graves full of bones that do not make a sound, the heart moving through a tunnel, in it darkness, darkness, darkness, like a shipwreck…

Morning (Love Sonnet XXVII)

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Naked you are simple as one of your hands; Smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round. You’ve moon-lines, apple pathways Naked you are slender as a naked grain of wheat. Naked you…

March Days Return with their Covert Light

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March days return with their covert light, and huge fish swim through the sky, vague earthly vapours progress in secret, things slip to silence one by one. Through fortuity, at…

Magellanic Penguin

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Neither clown nor child nor black nor white but verticle and a questioning innocence dressed in night and snow: The mother smiles at the sailor, the fisherman at the astronaunt,…

LXXXIV From: ‘Cien sonetos de amor’

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One time more, my love, the net of light extinguishes work, wheels, flames, boredoms and farewells, and we surrender the swaying wheat to night, the wheat that noon stole from…

Luminous mind, bright devil

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Luminous mind, bright devil of absolute clusterings, of upright noon—: here we are at last, alone, without loneliness, far from the savage city’s delirium. Just as a pure line describes…

Lovely One

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Lovely one, Just as on the cool stone Of the spring, the water Opens a wide flash of foam, So is the smile of your face, Lovely one. Lovely one,…

Love, We’re Going Home Now

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Love, we’re going home now, Where the vines clamber over the trellis: Even before you, the summer will arrive, On its honeysuckle feet, in your bedroom. Our nomadic kisses wandered…

Love Sonnet XVII

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I do not love you as if you were a salt rose, or topaz or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things…

Love

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What’s wrong with you, with us, what’s happening to us? Ah our love is a harsh cord that binds us wounding us and if we want to leave our wound,…

Lost In The Forest

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Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips: maybe it was the voice of the rain crying, a cracked bell,…

Lone Gentleman

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The gay young men and the love-sick girls, and the abandoned widows suffering in sleepless delirium, and the young pregnant wives of thirty hours, and the raucous cats that cruise…

Leave Me A Place Underground

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Leave me a place underground, a labyrinth, where I can go, when I wish to turn, without eyes, without touch, in the void, to dumb stone, or the finger of…

Leaning Into The Afternoons

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Leaning into the afternoons, I cast my sad nets towards your oceanic eyes. There, in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens and flames; Its arms turning like a drowning man’s.…

La Reina (and translation)

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Yo te he nombrado reina. Hay más altas que tú, más altas. Hay más puras que tú, más puras. Hay más bellas que tú, hay más bellas. Pero tú eres…

La Muerta

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Si de pronto no existes, si de pronto no vives, yo seguiré viviendo. No me atrevo, no me atrevo a escribirlo, si te mueres. Yo seguiré viviendo. Porque donde no…

It’s good to feel you are close to me

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It’s good to feel you are close to me in the night, love, invisible in your sleep, intently nocturnal, while I untangle my worries as if they were twisted nets.…

In You The Earth

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Little rose, roselet, at times, tiny and naked, it seems as though you would fit in one of my hands, as though I’ll clasp you like this and carry you…

In the wave-strike over unquiet stones

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In the wave-strike over unquiet stones the brightness bursts and bears the rose and the ring of water contracts to a cluster to one drop of azure brine that falls.…

In My Sky At Twilight

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In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud and your form and colour are the way I love them. You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips and…

I Remember You As You Were

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I remember you as you were in the last autumn. You were the grey beret and the still heart. In your eyes the flames of the twilight fought on. And…

I like you calm, as if you were absent

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I like you calm, as if you were absent, and you hear me far-off, and my voice does not touch you. It seems that your eyelids have taken to flying:…