I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

As if you were on fire from within.The moon lives in the lining of your skin.

Tonight I can write the saddest linesI loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

I love you as certain dark things are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

You are like nobody since I love you.

In this part of the story I am the one whodies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,because I love you, Love, in fire and in blood.

Then love knew it was called love. And when I lifted my eyes to your name, suddenly your heart showed me my way

I am no longer in love with her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two together in their sleep will defeat the darkness

Love! Love until the night collapses!

It was at that agethat poetry came in search of me.

Green was the silence, wet was the light,the month of June trembled like a butterfly.

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.

I want to see thirstIn the syllables,Tough fireIn the sound;Feel through the darkFor the scream.

Love is a clash of lightnings

Our love was bornoutside the walls,in the wind,in the night,in the earth,and that's why the clay and the flower,the mud and the rootsknow your name.

Poetry is an act of peace. Peace goes into the making of a poet as flour goes into the making of bread.

Quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos

I love all things, not only the grand but the infinitely small: thimble, spurs, plates, flower vases.....

I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.

I shivered in thosesolitudeswhen I heardthe voiceofthe saltin the desert.

I have hunger for your mouth, for your voice, for your hair

So the freshness lives onin a lemon,in the sweet-smelling house of the rind,the proportions, arcane and acerb.

Sometimes a piece of the sun burned like a coin between my hands.

La heradera del dia destruida.(The heiress of the destroyed day.)

A book,a book fullof human touches,of shirts,a bookwithout loneliness, with menand tools,a bookis victory.

In the end, everyone is aware of this:nobody keeps any of what he has,and life is only a borrowing of bones.

Absence is a house so vast that inside you will pass through its walls and hang pictures on the air.

You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.

Donde termina el arco iris,en tu alma o en el horizonte?Where does the rainbow end,in your soul or on the horizon?

You make me thank god for every mistake I ever made, Because each one led me down the path that brought me to you.

I remembered you with my soul clenched