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Body of a Woman

Body of a woman, white hills, white thighs, you look like a world, lying in surrender. My rough peasant's body digs into you and makes the son leap from the depth of the earth. I was alone like a tunnel. The birds fled from me, and night swamped me with its crushing invasion. To survive myself I forged you like a weapon, like an arrow in my bow, a stone in my sling. But the hour of vengeance falls, and a love you. Body of skin, of moss, of eager and firm milk. Oh the goblets of the breast! Oh the eyes of absence! Oh the pink roses of the pubis! Oh your voice, slow and sad! Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace. My thirst, my boundless desire, my shifting road! Dark River-beds where the eternal thirst flows and weariness follows, and the infinite ache.

The Light Wraps You

The light wraps you in its mortal flame. Abstracted pale mourner, standing that way against the old propellers of twilight that revolves around you. Speechless, my friend, alone in the loneliness of this hour of the dead and filled with lives of fire, and pure heir of the ruined day. A bough of fruit falls from the sun on your dark garment. The great roots of night grow suddenly from your soul, and the things that hide in you come out again so that a blue and pallid people, your newly born, takes nourishment. Oh magnificent and fecund and magnetic slave of the circle that moves in turn through black and gold: rise, lead and possess a creation so rich in life that its flowers perish and it is full of sadness.

Ah vastness of pines, murmur of waves breaking

slow play of lights, solitary bell, twilight falling in your eyes, toy doll, earth-shell, in whom the earth sings! In you the rivers sing and my soul flees in them as you desire, and you send it where you will. Aim my road on your bow of hope and in a frenzy I will flee my flock of arrows. On all sides I see your waist of fog, and your silence hunts down my afflicted hours; my kisses anchor, and my moist desire nests in your arms of transparent stone. Ah your mysterious voice that love tolls and darkens in the resonant and dying evening! Thus in the deep hours I have seen, over the fields, the ears of wheat tolling in the mouth of the wind.

The Morning Is Full

The morning is full of storm in the heart of summer. The clouds travel like white handkerchiefs of goodbye, the wind, traveling, waving them in its hands. The numberless heart of the wind beating above our loving silence. Orchestral and divine, resounding among the trees like a language full of wars and songs. Wind that bears off the dead leaves with a quick raid and deflects the pulsing arrows of the birds. Wind that topples her in a wave without spray and substance without weight, and leaning fires. Her mass of kisses breaks and sinks, assailed in the door of the summer's wind.

So That You Will Hear Me

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 as smooth as grapes. And I watch my words from a long way off. They are more yours than mine. They climb on my old suffering ivy. It climbs the same way on damp walls. You are to blame for this cruel sport. They are fleeing from my dark lair. You fill everything, you fill everything. Before you they are peopled in the solitude that you occupy, and they are more used to my sadness than you are. Now I want them to say what I want to say to you and to make you hear as I wasn't you to hear me. The winds of anguish still hauls on them as usual. Sometimes hurricanes of dreams still knock them over. You listen to other voices in my painful voice Lament of old mouths, blood of old supplications. Love me, companion. Don't forsake me. Follow me. Follow me, companion, on this wave of anguish. But my words become stained with your love. You occupy everything, you occupy everything. I am making them into an endless necklace for your white hands, smooth as grapes.

I Remember You As You Were

I remember you as you were last autumn. You were the grey beret and the still heart. In your eyes the flames of twilight fought on. And the leaves fell on the water of your soul. Clasping my arms like a climbing plant the leaves garnered your voice, that was slow and at peace. Bonfire of awe in which my thirst was burning. Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul. I feel your eyes traveling, and the autumn is far off: grey beret, voice of bird, heart like a house, towards which my deep longings migrated and my kisses fell, happy as embers. Sky from a ship, Field from the hills: Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond! Beyond your eyes, farther on, the evenings were blazing. Dry autumn leaves revolved in your soul.

Leaning Into The Afternoons

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. I sent out red signals across your absent eyes that move like the sea near a lighthouse. You keep only darkness, my distant female, from your regard sometimes the coast of dread emerges. Leaning into the afternoons I fling my sad nets to the sea that beats on your marine eyes. The birds peck at the first stars that flash like my soul when I love you. The night on its shadowy mare shedding blue tassels over the land.

White Bee

White bee, you buzz in my soul, drunk with honey, and your flight winds in slow spirals of smoke. I am the one without hope, the word without echoes, he who lost everything and he who had everything. Last hawser, in you creaks my last longing. In my barren land you are the final rose. Ah you who are silent! Let your deep eyes close. There the night flutters. Ah your body, a frightened statue, naked. You have deep eyes in which the night flails. Cool arms of flowers and a lap of rose. Your breasts seem like white snails. A butterfly of shadow has come to sleep in your belly. Ah you who are silent! Here is the solitude from which you are absent. It is raining. The sea wind is hunting stray gulls. The water walks barefoot in the wet streets. From that tree the leaves complain as though they were sick. White bee, even when you are gone you buzz in my soul You live again in time, slender and silent. Ah you who are silent!

Drunk With Pines

Drunk with pines and long kisses, like summer I steer the fast sail of roses, bent towards the death of the thin day, stuck into my solid marine madness. Pale and lashed to my ravenous water, I cruise in the sour smell of the naked climate, still dressed in grey and bitter sounds and a sad crest of abandoned spray. Hardened by passions, I go mounted on my one wave, lunar, solar, burning and cold, all at once, becalmed in the throat of fortunate isles that are white and sweet as cool hips. In the moist night my garment of kisses trembles charged to insanity with electric currents, heroically dividing into dreams and intoxicating roses practising on me. Upstream, in the midst of the outer waves, your parallel body yields to my arms like a fish infinitely fastened to my soul, quick and slow, in the energy under the sky.

We Have Lost Even

We have lost even this twilight. No one saw us this evening hand in hand while the blue night dropped out of the world. I have seen from my window the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops. Sometimes a piece of sun burned like a coin between my hands. I remembered you with my soul clenched in the sadness of mine that you know. Where were you then? Who else was there? Saying what? Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly when I have sad and feel you are far away? The book fell that is always turned to at twilight and my cape rolled like a hurt dog at my feet. Always, always you recede through the evenings towards where the twilight goes erasing statues.

Almost Out of Sky

Almost out of the sky, half of the moon anchors between two mountains. Turning, wandering night, the digger of eyes. Let's see how many stars are smashed in the pool. It makes a cross of mourning between my eyes, and runs away. Forge of blue metals, nights of stilled combats, my heart revolves like a crazy wheel. Girl who have from so far, brought me so far, sometimes you glance flashes out under the sky. Rumbling, storm, cyclone of fury, you cross above my heart without stopping. Wind from the tombs carries off, wrecks, scatters your sleepy root. The big trees on the other side of her, uprooted. But you, cloudless girl, question of smoke, corn tassel. You were what the wind was making with illuminated leaves. Behind the nocturnal mountains, white lily of conflagration, ah, I can say nothing! You were made of everything. Longing that sliced my breast into pieces, it is time to take another road, on which she does not smile. Storm that buried the bells, muddy swirl of torments, why touch her now, why make her sad. Oh to follow the road that leads away from everything, without anguish, death, winter waiting along it with their eyes open through the dew.