It Was At That Age That Poetry

You Are Like Nobody Since I Love You.

When Everything Seems To Be Set To Show Me Off As Intelligent, The Fool I Always Keep Hidden Takes Over All That I Say.

From Sorrow To Sorrow Love Crosses Its Islands And Establishes Roots That Are Watered By Weeping.

Sometimes I Get Up At Dawn, And Even My Soul Is Wet.

Nobody Can Claim The Name Of Pedro, Nobody Is Rosa Or María, All Of Us Are Dust Or Sand, All Of Us Are Rain Under Rain. They Have Spoken To Me Of Venezuelas, Of Chiles And Paraguays; I Have No Idea What They Are Saying. I Know Only The Skin Of The Earth And I Know It Has No Name.