You Are Like Night, Calmed, Constellated. Your

The Bare Earth, Plantless, Waterless, Is An Immense Puzzle. In The Forests Or Beside Rivers Everything Speaks To Humans. The Desert Does Not Speak. I Could Not Comprehend Its Tongue; Its Silence...

Latin America Is Very Fond Of The Word "hope." We Like To Be Called The "continent Of Hope." Candidates For Deputy, Senator, President, Call Themselves "candidates Of Hope." This Hope Is Really Something Like A Promise Of Heaven, An Iou Whose Payment Is Always Being Put Off. It Is Put Off Until The Next Legislative Campaign, Until Next Year, Until The Next Century.

What Will They Say About My Poetry Who Never Touched My Blood?

I Spin On The Circle Of Wave Upon Wave Of The Sea.

I Believed That The Way Passed Through Man, And That It Was From There That Destiny Had To Emerge.