In The Distance Someone Is Singing.

Our Love Was Born Outside The Walls, In The Wind, In The Night, In The Earth, And That's Why The Clay And The Flower, The Mud And The Roots Know Your Name.

We The Mortals Touch The Metals, The Wind, The Ocean Shores, The Stones, Knowing They Will Go On, Inert Or Burning, And I Was Discovering, Naming All The These Things: It Was My Destiny To Love And Say Goodbye.

Then I Speak To Her In A Language She Has Never Heard, I Speak To Her In Spanish, In The Tongue Of The Long, Crepuscular Verses Of Díaz Casanueva; In That Language In Which Joaquín Edwards Preaches Nationalism. My Discourse Is Profound; I Speak With Eloquence And Seduction; My Words, More Than From Me, Issue From The Warm Nights, From The Many Solitary Nights On The Red Sea, And When The Tiny Dancer Puts Her Arm Around My Neck, I Understand That She Understands. Magnificent Language!

I Hunger For Your Sleek Laugh And Your Hands The Color Of A Furious Harvest. I Want To Eat The Sunbeams Flaring In Your Beauty.

About Me, Nothing Worse They Will Tell You, My Love, Than What I Told You