Respuestas
Respuesta:
Shrouded in golden leaves,
we wait.
The world doesn’t end at sunset
and only dreams
limit themselves to things.
Through a labyrinth of blank hours
time leads us on
as autumn falls
over our house, our patio.
Shrouded in a relentless fog
we wait, we wait:
nostalgia means to live without remembering
the word we are made of.
De su quinto libro Preludios (Preludes) solo me se ese
Respuesta:
Any way the wind blows
For all those who feel that they aren’t in control
I would have liked to be the disciple of Icarus.
It would have been beautiful to celebrate
the wedding of Calisto and Melibea.
I would have liked to be
a Hittite before Queen Nefertiti
young Werther in Rio de Janeiro
the dazzling lady from Seville
for whom Don José rejected Carmen.
If only I could have been the poet’s grove
with its green tree and its white well
the fiscal inspector
with whom Mayakovsky spoke.
I would have liked loving you. I swear it.
Only lots of times wishing just isn’t enough.
Solo ese me se