FORGETTING (CARLOS JOSÉ MEDELLÍN FORERO) No one should lower themselves to tears or reproach.

this master's declaration

of God, who with magnificent irony
I forgot your name.
I don't remember if your name was Light or Vine,
he gave me both the books and the night.
but I know you were water
why do my hands tremble when it rains.
I forgot your face and your eyelash
and your skin traversed by my mouth (continuation...)
when we fell under the cypress trees
From this city of books, it made owners.
overcome by the wind,
but I know you were the moon
to some lightless eyes, that can only
read in the libraries of dreams
because when night approaches
my eyes are breaking the foolish paragraphs that yield
so much wanting to see you in the window.
I forgot your voice, and your word, the dawns to their endeavor. In vain the day
but I know you are music he lavishly gives out his infinite books,
because when the hours dissolve arduous like the arduous manuscripts
among the springs of blood who perished in Alexandria.
my heart sings to you.
Of hunger and thirst (tells a Greek story)
The Threatened a king dies among fountains and gardens;
I wander aimlessly to the ends
It's love. I will have to cut myself off or run away. from this high and deep blind library.
The walls of your prison grow, like in a dream
atrocious. Encyclopedias, atlases, the East
The beautiful mask has changed, but how and the West, centuries, dynasties,
she is always the only one.
symbols, cosmos and cosmogonies
What use will my talismans be to me: the exercise of the walls offer, but uselessly.
the letters
the vague erudition, the learning of words Slow in my shadow, the hollow twilight
what the rough North used to sing its seas and I explore with the indecisive staff,
his swords, I imagined Paradise.
the serene friendship, the galleries of the library, the under the guise of a library.
common things
the habits, my mother's young love, the shadow Something that is certainly not mentioned
soldier of my dead, the timeless night, the with the word chance, these things are governed;
flavor of the dream? another has already received in other blurry ones
Being with you or not being with you is the measure of my afternoon the many books and the shadow.
time.
The pitcher already breaks over the fountain, already the While wandering through the slow galleries
man is I usually feel a vague sacred horror
raise the voice of the bird, it has already gotten dark the that I am the other, the dead, that will have given
they look through the windows, but the shadow has not the same steps on the same days.
brought peace.
Yes, I know it, love: the anxiety and relief of hearing Which of the two writes this poem?
your voice, the waiting and the memory, the horror of living in of a plural 'I' and a single shadow?
the following. What does the word that names me matter?
It is love with its mythologies, with its small if it is undivided and one the anathema?
useless magic.
There is a corner that I don't dare to pass. Groussac or Borges, I look at this dear one
The armies surround me, the hordes. world that deforms and fades away
(This room is unreal; she hasn't seen it.) in a pale wandering ash
The name of a woman gives me away. that looks like dream and forgetfulness.
I have a woman hurting all over my body.

WELCOME (MARIO BENEDETTI)

Poem of the Gifts
 I think you're going to arrive differently.
not exactly prettier your eyes are my spell
neither stronger against the bad day
not more docile I love you for your gaze
no more cautious who looks and sows the future
you are just going to arrive differently
as if this season of not seeing me your mouth that is yours and mine
it would have surprised you too your mouth does not make mistakes
perhaps because you know I love you because of your mouth
how I think of you and enumerate you know how to shout rebellion

After all, nostalgia exists if I love you it’s because you are
even if we do not cry on the ghostly platforms my love my partner and everything
and on the street shoulder to shoulder

we are much more than two

(continued...)
and for your sincere face
neither about the pillows of candor
and your wandering step
neither under the opaque sky
and your cry for the world
because you are the people I love
I miss you
your memories
and how it frustrates me that he is nostalgic
(continuation...)

your face is the vanguard and because love is not a halo

maybe he/she arrives first you naive moral
because I painted it on the walls and because we are a couple
with invisible and secure strokes that knows she is not alone

don't forget that your face I want you in my paradise

he looks at me like a village that is to say in my country
smile and rage and sing people live happily
as a people even if I don't have permission
and that gives you a spark
unpayable if I love you, it's because you are
now I have no doubts my love my accomplice and everything
You are going to arrive different and with signs. And in the street, side by side.
with new we are much more than two.
with depth
with frankness
LET'S MAKE A DEAL (MARIO BENEDETTI)
I know I will love you without questions.
I know you are going to love me without answers. Companion
you know
can count
with me
not until two
I LOVE YOU (MARIO BENEDETTI) or up to ten
not to count
Your hands are my caress with me
my daily chords
I love you because of your hands
if ever
they work for justice warns
that I look her in the eyes
if I love you, it's because you are
and a vein of love
my love my accomplice and everything
recognize in mine
and on the street, side by side
Don't alert your rifles
we are much more than two
 Do not think what delirium
despite the vein
or maybe because it exists A SOLAS (ISMAEL ENRIQUE)
you can count
with me Do you want us to talk? ... Alright ... start:
if other times Speak to my heart like other days...
finds me But no!... what would you say?
sullen without reason What could you say to my sadness?
don't think it's lazy Don’t try to apologize... it’s all in vain!
he can still count The roses in the garden have died;
the green field was dried by the summer,
with me
and my faith in you, like my love, has died.
but let's make a deal
Repentant love,
I would like to count
You want to return to the nest.
with you through the frost and the fog;
it's so cute love that comes numb and stiff,
to know that you exist Where you were happy... everything has died!
one feels alive Don't come back... You will find everything in ruins!
and when I say this
I want to say to count What have you come for? Why did you return?
even if it is just until two What are you searching for?... No one will answer you!
even if it is up to five My soul is alone, and I am sad,
no, now for them to come immensely sad until death.
hurry to my aid All the illusions that loved you,
those who wanted to share your luck,
but to know
with absolute certainty
they waited a long time in the shadows,
and they left... tired of not seeing you!
that you know you can
count on me. When for the first time
I found you on my way, laughing
13 LOVE POEMS (DARIO JARAMILLO)
in the fields the joyful spring...
First comes loneliness. all that light, aromas, and harmony.
In the entrails and at the center of the soul:
this is the essence, the basic data, the only certainty; Today... how different it all is! Step by step
and I am only traveling down the deserted road.
that only your breath accompanies you,
that you will always dance with your shadow, Ship adrift among turbulent waves
that darkness is you. thinking about the sorrows of the sunset,
and in the sorrows of lonely souls.

Around the gaze, it does not illuminate.

Your heart, that perplexing fruit, does not have to
to become bitter with your solitary fate; without roughness and gloomy moors;
let him wait without hope the nests in the snow are empty,
and the star that we loved no longer shines
that love is a gift that someday arrives by itself
alone. the blue of your dreams and mine.

You departed for an unknown distance

But first comes loneliness, when the shadow began to descend.
and you are alone, ...Do you remember? I was begging for my hope,
you are alone with your original sin -with you but my hope no longer speaks of you!
same-.
One night, at nine, You shall not be named!... For what?... Empty
love appears and everything explodes and something lights up
the altar is there, and history lies truncated.
inside you, Why wait for the day to shine!
and you become another, less bitter, happier; Why tell us: Not yet!
but don't forget, especially then, If a voice cries out in our souls: Never!
when love arrives and scorches you,
What is first and always is your solitude
You say you are the same; that in your chest
and then nothing
the sweet flame of other times burns;
that the nest of love is not destroyed,
And then, if it is to come, there is love.
 that to love each other again, it is not too late.
And, you can see it, from the long journey
You are deceiving yourself!... Don't believe it!... Already the doubt I returned purer and stronger,
it took strong roots in my heart. because I slept all night
The faith of other years no longer shields me... in the knees of death.
My bare illusion remained as dreams,
And I can't believe what you are telling me! Because I was looking into your eyes
a sky of past things,
I can't believe it!... My faith mocked, like in the soul of the caves
my faith in your love lost, enchanted cities can be seen.
it is the longing of a shattered ship,
anchor at the bottom of the fallen sea! And because I saw your clear image,
between a halo of serene light,
Longings for a love, chaste and smiling, as never before, in mortal eyes,
you will never return... They are leaving... They are hiding! a earthly vision appeared.
Do you call them?... It's useless!... They don't answer...
They are already covered by the shroud of my dreams! Seeing you again was a dark
premonition I had
Spring left a long time ago... to find you unfamiliar, and yet
Winter has arrived, grim and gloomy! to continue believing that you were mine.
Hail was our love, traveler bird,
And the birds leave when it gets cold!

TO SEE YOU AGAIN (RAFAEL MAYA) GAME RULES FOR MEN WHO
WANT TO LOVE WOMEN WOMEN
Seeing you again was not just GIOCONDA BELLI
a light and constant effort,
who ties, within the soul, I
the broken thread of the daydream.
The man who loves me
you must know how to pull back the curtains of the skin,
Seeing you again was a dark find the depth of my eyes
premonition that I had and to know the one that nests within me,
to find yourself foreign, and yet the swallow
to keep believing that you were mine.
transparent of tenderness.
Seeing you again was the miracle II
of a sweet convalescence
The man who loves me
when everything, to the naked soul,
he will not want to possess me like a commodity,
returns more beautiful from absence.
don't exhibit me like a hunting trophy,
will know how to be by my side
Seeing you again, after the night
with the same love
impenetrable of the abyss,
with that I will be by your side.
was to find in your eyes a
old image of myself. III
The love of the man who loves me
And to find, in the deep past,
it will be strong like the ceiba trees,
more beautiful and better days,
protector and safe like them,
like that letter in whose folds
clean as a December morning.
some flowers are preserved.
IV
Seeing you again was to show me
The man who loves me
the sentence that is frozen,
He will not doubt my smile
like beautiful afternoon mist, he will not fear the abundance of my hair
in the blue of your gaze.
 it will respect sadness, silence separated
and with caresses, it will touch my belly like a guitar as beings of different heights
so that music and joy can flourish
XI
from the depths of my body.
The love of my man
V
He/She won't want to label me or tag me,
The man who loves me will give me air, space,
you will find in me food to grow and be better,
the hammock to relax like a Revolution
the heavy burden of his worries what makes each day
the friend with whom to share your intimate secrets, the beginning of a new victory.
the lake where to float
without fear that the anchor of commitment
it prevents him from flying when he feels like being a bird.

VI The Black Heralds

The man who loves me
will make poetry with his life, There are blows in life, so strong… I don’t know!
Hits like the hatred of God; as if before them,
building every day the hangover of all that has been endured
with the gaze set on the future. it will settle in the soul... I don't know!
VII
Above all things, They are few; but they are... They open dark trenches.
the man who loves me on the fiercest face and on the strongest back.
he must love the people They will perhaps be the colts of the barbarian Attilas;
not like an abstract word or the black heralds that Death sends us.
pulled from the sleeve,
but as something real, concrete,
They are the deep falls of the Christs of the soul
(continuation...) Of some adorable faith that Destiny blasphemes.
Those bloody blows are the cracklings.
of some bread that at the door of the oven we
to whom to pay tribute with actions
burn.
and give life if necessary.
VIII
And the man... Poor... poor! He turns his eyes,
The man who loves me how
he will recognize my face in the trench when a calls us over the shoulder
knee on the ground will love me slap
while we both shoot together turns the crazy eyes, and everything lived
against the enemy. it gathers, like a puddle of guilt, in the gaze.
IX
The love of my man There are blows in life, so strong... I don't know!
will not know the fear of surrender,
you will not fear being revealed before the magic of
THE WORD (PABLO NERUDA)
falling in love
in a public square full of crowds
He/She can shout —I love you— Whatever you want, yes sir, but it is
or making signs on the tops of buildings words that sing, that rise and fall...
proclaiming their right to feel I kneel before them... I love them, I adhere to them, I
the most beautiful and human of feelings. I pursue, I bite them, I melt them... I love them so much.
words... The unexpected ones... The ones that
X gluttonously they wait, they are heard, until
The love of my man suddenly they fall... Beloved words... They shine like
he will not flee from the kitchens
to the son's diapers,
(continued...)
it will be like a fresh breeze
carried away among clouds of dream and past
the weaknesses that, for centuries, kept us colored stones, leap like silvery fish,
is foam, thread, metal, dew... I chase some
Words... They are so beautiful that I want to put them. That's it. In the distance, someone sings. In the distance.
all in my poem... I catch them on the fly, when My soul is not satisfied with having lost it.
they come buzzing, and I catch them, I clean them, I peel them, As if to bring her closer, my gaze seeks her.
I prepare myself in front of the plate, I feel them crystalline, My heart seeks her, and she is not with me.
vibrant, ivory, vegetal, oily, like The same night that makes the same things whiten
fruits, like seaweeds, like agates, like olives... trees.
And then I stir them, I shake them, I drink them, I... (continued...)
the zampo, the grind, the adorn, the liberate...
I leave them like stalactites in my poem, like We, those from then, are no longer the same
pieces of polished wood, like coal, like same.
wreckage, gifts from the wave… Everything is I no longer want her, it's true, but how much I loved her.
in the word... A whole idea changes because My voice sought the wind to touch its ear.
a word moved position, or because another did It will be of someone else. Like before my kisses.
sat like a little queen inside a sentence that His voice, his clear body. His eyes infinite.
I didn't expect her and she obeyed... They have shade, I don't want her anymore, it's true, but maybe I do want her.
transparency, weight, feathers, hairs, they have everything Love is so short, and forgetting is so long.
what was added to them from so much rolling on the Because on nights like this I had her in my
river, from so much transmigrating from homeland, from so much being arms
roots... They are very ancient and very recent... They live my soul is not satisfied with having lost her.
in the hidden coffin and in the barely blooming flower Even if this is the last pain she causes me,
started... What a good language mine is, how good and these may be the last verses that I write to you.
language we inherited from the conquerors
torvos... They were walking strides through the Sonatina
tremendous mountain ranges, throughout the Americas
curly, looking for potatoes, sausages,
The princess is sad... What could be bothering the princess?
frijolitos, tabaco negro, oro, maíz, huevos fritos,
with that voracious appetite that has never been seen again The sighs escape from her strawberry lips,
in the world... Everything was swallowed up, with religions, who has lost laughter, who has lost color.
pyramids, tribes, idolatries similar to those of them The princess is pale in her golden chair,
they brought in their large bags... wherever they went the keyboard of your sound password is silent,
the land was left devastated… But the barbarians were and in a glass, forgotten, a flower faints.
they fell from the boots, from the beards, from the helmets,
like little stones, the words The garden fills the triumph of the peacocks.
luminous ones that stayed here Talkative, the owner says trivial things,
shining... the language. We come out losing... and the jester twirls in a red dress.
The princess does not laugh, the princess does not feel;
We came out winning... They took the gold and left us behind.
the gold... They took everything and left us everything... the princess chases through the sky of the East
the wandering dragonfly of a vague illusion.
They left us the words
Do you perhaps think of the prince of Golconda or of
China,
or in which he has stopped his Argentine carriage
to see the sweetness of light in their eyes?
POEM XX (PABLO NERUDA)
Or in the king of the islands of fragrant roses,
or in which he is sovereign of the clear diamonds,
I can write the saddest verses tonight. or in the proud owner of the pearls of Ormuz?
For example, write: "The night is starry,
and they twinkle, blue, the stars, in the distance. Oh, the poor princess with the rose-colored mouth
The night wind turns in the sky and sings. wants to be a swallow, wants to be a butterfly,
I can write the saddest verses tonight. to have lightweight wings, to fly under the sky;
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. go to the sun by the luminous scale of a ray,
On nights like this I held her in my arms. greet the lilies with the verses of May
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky. or to get lost in the wind over the thunder of the sea.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could I not have loved her great fixed eyes. He no longer wants the palace, nor the silver spinning wheel,

I can write the saddest verses tonight. neither the enchanted falcon, nor the scarlet jester,
To think that I don't have her. To feel that I have lost her. neither the unanimous swans in the azure lake.
Hearing the immense night, even more immense without her. And the flowers are sad for the court flower,
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the grass. the jasmines of the East, the lotuses of the North,
What does it matter that my love couldn't keep it. from the West the dahlias and the roses of the South.
The night is starry and she is not with me.
 Poor little blue-eyed princess! Well, to your continuous tenderness
She is trapped in her gold, she is trapped in her tulles, a violent passion united.
in the marble cage of the royal palace; In a pure gauze peplos
the magnificent palace that is guarded by the guards, a bacchante was wrapping herself...
that one hundred blacks guard with their one hundred halberds,
a hound that does not sleep and a colossal dragon. In his arms, he took my dreams.
and rocked him like a baby...
Oh, who would be the hipsipila that left the chrysalis! And it killed you, sad and small,
(The princess is sad. The princess is pale.) lacking light, lacking faith...
Oh adored vision of gold, rose, and ivory!
Who will fly to the land where a prince exists,
Youth, divine treasure,
You left never to return!
(continuation...) When I want to cry, I don't cry...
(The princess is pale. The princess is sad.) and sometimes I cry without wanting to...

brighter than dawn, more beautiful than April!

Another judged that it was my mouth
"Be quiet, be quiet, princess -says the fairy godmother-; the case of his passion;
on horseback, with wings, is heading this way, and that would gnaw at me, crazy,
in the belt the sword and in the hand the hawk, with its teeth the heart.
the happy knight who adores you without seeing you,
and comes from afar, conqueror of Death,
Putting in a love of excess
to ignite your lips with a kiss of love.
the gaze of their will,
while they were hugging and kissing
synthesis of eternity;

DIVINE TREASURE YOUTH (RUBÉN DARÍO) and of our light flesh

always imagine an Eden,
without thinking that Spring
Youth, divine treasure, and the meat ends too...
You're leaving now, never to return!
When I want to cry, I don't cry Youth, divine treasure,
And sometimes I cry without wanting to.
You're leaving for good!
When I want to cry, I don't cry...
The plural has been the sky blue And sometimes I cry unintentionally.
history of my heart.
She was a sweet little girl,
And the others! In so many
in this world of mourning and affliction. climates, in so many lands they are always,
if not excuses for my rhymes
I looked like the pure dawn; ghosts of my heart.
she smiled like a flower.
It was her dark hair. I searched in vain for the princess
made of night and pain. that was sad to wait.
Life is hard. Bitter and weighs heavy.
I was shy like a child. There is no princess left to sing about!
She was, of course,
for my love made of ermine, But despite the time
Herodias and Salome... third, my thirst for love knows no bounds;
with gray hair, I approach the
Youth, divine treasure, flowers of the garden...
You're leaving never to return!
When I want to cry, I don't cry... Youth, divine treasure,
And sometimes I cry without meaning to...
You're leaving for good!
When I want to cry, I don't cry...
And more comforting and more and sometimes I cry involuntarily...
complimentary and expressive, But the Dawn of gold is mine!
the other was more sensitive
which I never thought I would find.
 ASHES What I loved the most
And you because I was
The one who loved you the most.
The night shattered with stars
looking at me in awe But of the two of us
the air throws hate You lose more than I do:
Because I will be able to love others
embellished her face
with music. How I loved you,
But they will not love you
We will leave soon How I loved you.

Arcane dream
ancestor of my smile KISSES (GABRIELA MISTRAL)
the world is emaciated
there is a padlock but no keys There are kisses that speak for themselves.
and there is fear but no tears. the condemning sentence of love,
there are kisses that are given with the gaze
What will I do with myself? there are kisses that are given with memory.

Because I owe what I am to You There are silent kisses, noble kisses
there are enigmatic, sincere kisses
But I don't have tomorrow there are kisses given only by souls
there are forbidden kisses, true ones.
Because to You...
There are kisses that burn and that wound,
The night suffers. there are kisses that take away the senses,
there are mysterious kisses that have left
a thousand wandering and lost dreams.
LIKE BEER CANS (ERNESTO
CARDINAL There are problematic kisses that enclose
a key that no one has deciphered,
like empty beer cans and cigarette butts there are kisses that give birth to tragedy
How many roses in bud have they plucked?
Of extinguished cigarettes, have been my days.
There are scented kisses, warm kisses
like figures that pass through a screen of that throb with intimate desires,
television There are kisses that leave marks on the lips
and they disappear, that has been my life. like a field of sun between two ice.

like the cars that passed by quickly on the There are kisses that seem like lilies
roads for sublime, naive, and pure,
there are treacherous and cowardly kisses,
with the laughter of girls and the music from radios...
There are cursed and perjured kisses.
and beauty passed quickly, like the model of the
Judas kisses Jesus and leaves an imprint
cars
in the face of God, the felony,
and the songs from the radios that go out of style. while Magdalena with her kisses
she fortifies her agonizing piety.
and nothing is left of those days, nothing,
more than empty cans and extinguished cigarette butts, Since then, it pulsates in the kisses
love, betrayal, and pain,
laughter in wilted photos, broken tickets, human weddings look alike
to the breeze that plays with the flowers.
and the sawdust with which they swept at dawn the
bars. (continuation...)

IN LOSING YOU There are kisses that cause delirium

of loving, burning, and crazy passion,
By losing you...
you know them well they are my kisses
By losing you to me invented by me, for your mouth.
You and I have lost:
I because you were Kisses of flame that in printed trail
 they carry the furrows of a forbidden love,
storm kisses, wild kisses Silent, as it darkens,
that only our lips have tasted. the gravedigger called me;
I have never seen again
Do you remember the first one...? Indefinable; to the one who died of love.
covered your face with crimson blushes
and in the spasms of terrible emotion,
Your eyes filled with tears. Simple Verses
Do you remember that one afternoon in wild excess I am a sincere man
I saw you jealous imagining grievances, Where the palm tree grows.
I suspended you in my arms... a kiss vibrated, And before I die, I want
and what did you see after...? Blood on my lips. Pour my verses from the soul.

I taught you how to kiss: the cold kisses I come from everywhere,
they are of an impassive heart of stone, And I go everywhere:
I taught you to kiss with my kisses I am art among the arts,
In the mountains, I am a mountain.
invented by me, for your mouth.
I know the strange names
Of the herbs and the flowers,
The Girl from Guatemala And of mortal deceits,
And of sublime pains.
I want, in the shade of a wing,
to tell this story in flower: I have seen in the dark night
the girl from Guatemala, Rain over my head
the one who died of love. The rays of pure light
Of divine beauty.
They were lily branches;
and the borders of reseda Alas born I saw on the shoulders
and of jasmine; we buried her About beautiful women:
in a silk box... And to emerge from the rubble,
Flying the butterflies.
She gave to the forgetful one
I have seen a man live.
a scent pad;
With the dagger at the side,
he returned, returned married;
Never saying the name
she died of love.
Of the one who has killed him.
They were carrying her on a litter
Quick as a reflex,
bishops and ambassadors; I saw the soul twice, twice:
behind the town went in groups, When the poor old man died,
all loaded with flowers... When she said goodbye.

She, to see him again, I trembled once - at the gate,

went out to see him at the lookout; At the entrance of the vineyard,
he went back to his wife, When the barbaric bee
she died of love. He poked my girl in the forehead.

I enjoyed it once, in such a way

Like hot bronze,
What I enjoyed like never before: when
to the farewell kiss,
it was his forehead - the forehead
(Continuation...)
What else have I loved in my life!...

He entered the river in the evening, The sentence of my death

the doctor took her out dead; The mayor read while crying.
they say he died of cold,
I know he/she died of love. I hear a sigh, through
Of the lands and the sea,
There, in the frozen vault, And it's not a sigh.
they put it in two banks: That my son is going to wake up.
kiss his sharp hand,
Kiss your white shoes.
 If they say from the jeweler Write me the eyes, surprise me the mouth, 1
Take the better jewel, Hold this crazy head in your hands;
I take a sincere friend Give me to drink poison, the evil poison 3
And I set love aside. What wets your lips despite being
good. 4
I have seen the wounded eagle But don't ask me, don't ask me
Fly into the serene blue, nothing 5
And die in your lair Why I cried so much last night; 6
The poison viper. Women cry without knowing why
I know well that when the world yes: 7
Is this the passage of the weeping trivial.
Yield, livid, to rest,
It is clear that we have an ocean inside
About the deep silence
The gentle stream murmurs. hidden, 9
A slightly clumsy sea,
I have put my daring hand foolish. 10
Of horror and joy, stiff, What is peeking out at the eyes with quite a
About the extinguished star frequency 11
What fell in front of my door. and we even handle it with a ductile
science. 12
Hidden in my fierce chest Don't ask, beloved, you must.
The pain that hurts me: suspect, 13
The son of a enslaved people Last night it was not still the
Live for him, be silent and die. Mar, 14
Everything is beautiful and constant,
Nothing more. Storms that bring them and
it takes 15
Everything is music and reason,
A wind that guides us to the shore every time
And everything, like the diamond,
new. 16
Before light is coal.
Yes, vain butterflies over the garden of
I know that the foolish bury themselves. January 17
With great luxury and with great crying, Our interior is all without balance and
And that there is no fruit on the earth huero. 18
Like that of the cemetery. Crystal light, carnival fruit 19
Decorated in snake scales of the
I call, and I understand, and I take off male. 20
The pump of the rimmer: That's how we are, isn't it? As it was said.
I hang from a withered tree poet. 21
My doctor's hood. Absurd mobility of the unconscious
flirtatious. 22
We desire and enjoy the honey of each
Little Man cup. 23
(continuation...)
Little man, little man,
Let your canary go who wants to fly... And in the brain to have a little bit of
I am the canary, little man, estopa. 24
let me jump. Well; no, don't ask me. Clumsiness of
woman, 25
I was in your cage, little man, Whim, my beloved, whim must
little man, what cage do you give me. ser. 26
I say little one because you don't understand me, Oh, let me laugh... Don't you see how late it is?
you won't understand me. beautiful? 27
Prick your hands and cut me that rose.
I don't understand you either, but in the meantime
Open the cage for me, I want to escape;
little man, I loved you for half an hour,
REDONDILLAS (SOR JUANA INÉS DE LA)
don't ask me for more.
CROSS)
Foolish men who accuse
to the woman without reason,
without seeing that you are the occasion

WISH (ALFONSINA STORNI) of the same thing that you blame:

 with unmatched anxiety of the guilt that you have?
you solicit his disdain, Ask them how you make them
why do you want them to do good or make them as you seek them.
if you incite them to evil?
(continuation...)
Combat your resistance
and then, seriously, Stop requesting,
you say it was lightness and later, even more so,
what the diligence did. you will accuse the affection
whomever it may implore you.
To seem requires determination.
from your crazy opinion Well, with many weapons I found
the boy who puts the coconut what your arrogance faces,
and then he is afraid of her.
well in promise and instance
you unite devil, flesh, and world.
You want, with foolish presumption,
find the one you are looking for,
for the intended, Thais, SONNET OF FIDELITY (VÍNICIUS DE MORAES)
and in possession, Lucrecia.
Above all, I will be attentive for my love.
What humor can be stranger? Before, and with such zeal, and always, and so much
that one, lacking advice, That even in the face of the greatest charm
he himself fogs the mirror, I am more enchanted by my thoughts of him.
And do you feel that it's not clear?
I want to live it in every fleeting moment
With favor and disdain And in their honor I shall spread my song
you have the same condition, And to laugh my laughter and to spill my tears
Whether for their sorrow or for their happiness.
complaining, if they treat you badly,
mocking them, if they care for you.
And so, when later you look for me
Who knows what death, anguish of one who lives
You are always so foolish. Who knows what loneliness, the end of one who loves
that, with uneven level,
you blame one for being cruel What can I say about the love (that I had):
and for another, you blame it easily.
Let it not be immortal, since it is flame,
But let it be infinite while it lasts.
Well, how should it be tempered?
the one your love seeks,
if the one who is ungrateful offends,
And the one that's easy, does it upset?
POETIC ART (VICENTE HUIDOBRO)
But, between anger and sadness
that your taste refers, May the verse be like a key
blessed be she who does not love you May it open a thousand doors.
and complain at a good time. A leaf falls; something flies by;
As much as the eyes look, let it be created,
Give your lovers pains And the listener's soul remains trembling.
to his freedoms wings,
and after doing them wrong Invent new worlds and take care of your word;
The adjective, when it does not give life, kills.
You want to find them very good.
We are in the cycle of nerves.
What greater fault has it had The muscle hangs,
in a misguided passion: As a memory, in the museums;
the one that falls from begging,
But that doesn't mean we have less strength:
or the one who prays from the fallen?
True vigor
Reside in the head.
Or who is more to blame,
even if anyone does wrong: Why do you sing the rose, oh Poets!
the one who sins for the pay, Make it bloom in the poem;
or the one who pays for sin?
Just for us
Well, why are you scared? All things live under the Sun.
 The Poet is a little God. they do not find, they search.
The loving ones walk like crazy
because they are alone, alone, alone,
giving oneself, giving oneself all the time,
crying because they don't save love.
AUTUMN SUMMARY (JULIOCORTÁZAR) They worry about love. The loving ones.
They live day by day, they can't do more, they don't know.
In the vault of the evening, each bird is a dot of the
memory. They are always leaving,
It sometimes amazes one that the fervor of time always, to somewhere.
return, return without a body, return already without reason; They wait,
that beauty, so brief in its violent love They expect nothing, but they wait.
keep an echo for us in the descent of the night.
They know they will never find.
And so, what more than to be with arms down, Love is the perpetual extension,
the crowded heart and that taste of dust always the next step, the other, the other.
What was pink or way. The loving ones are the insatiable,
The flight exceeds the wing. those who always -how nice!- must be alone.
The loving ones are the hydra of the tale.
Without humility, knowing that this remains
it was won in the shadow by the work of silence; They have snakes instead of arms.
that the branch in the hand, that the dark tear The veins in the neck bulge.
his inheritance, the man with his history, also like snakes to suffocate them.
the lamp that illuminates. The lovers cannot sleep
because if they fall asleep, the worms will eat them.
In the darkness, they open their eyes
and terror falls upon them.
A Love Letter (JULIO CORTÁZAR) Scorpions found under the sheet
and her bed floats as if over a lake.
Everything I would like from you
it is so little in the end The loving ones are crazy, just crazy,
because in the end it is everything, without God and without devil.
The loving ones come out of their caves
like a dog passing by, a hill, trembling, hungry,
those things of nothing, everyday, to hunt ghosts.
ear and hair and two lumps, They laugh at the people who know everything,
the smell of your body, of those who love endlessly, truly,
what you say about anything, of those who believe in love
with me or against me, like a lamp of inexhaustible oil.

all of that is so little, The loving ones play at catching water,

to tattoo the smoke, not to leave.
I want it from you because I love you.
They play the long, sad game of love.
That you look beyond me, No one should resign.
They say that no one should resign themselves.
that you love me with violent disregard
of tomorrow, that the scream The loving ones are ashamed of everything
of your delivery crashed formation.
in the face of an office boss, Empty, but empty from one rib to another,
death ferments behind their eyes,
and the pleasure we invented together and they walk, cry until dawn
it is another sign of freedom. in which trains and roosters bid farewell painfully.
THE LOVERS (JAIME SABINES)
Sometimes they catch a whiff of newly born earth,
The loving ones remain silent. to women who sleep with their hand on sex,
Love is the finest silence. satisfied
the most tremulous, the most unbearable. to soft water streams and to kitchens.
The lovers seek, The loving ones start to sing between lips.
the loving ones are the ones who abandon, a song not learned,
they are the ones who change, the ones who forget. and they leave crying, crying,
the beautiful life.
His heart tells them that they will never find.
EXILE (ALEJANDRA PIZARNIK)