Minęli się jak obcy, bez gestu i słowa, ona w drodze do sklepu, on do samochodu. Może w popłochu albo roztargnieniu albo niepamiętaniu, że przez krótki czas kochali się na zawsze.[...]
Life While-You-Wait.Performance without rehearsal.Body without alterations.Head without premeditation.I know nothing of the role I play.I only know it’s mine. I can’t exchange it.I have to guess on th...
Let me have your abyss.
LA ESTACIÓN DE FERROCARRIL.Mi no llegada a la ciudad de N tuvo lugar puntualmente.Fuiste avisadocon una carta no enviada.Lograste no llegar a la hora prevista.El tren llegó al andén número tres.Bajó m...
Eve from the rib, Venus from foam,Minerva from Jupiter’s head –All three were more real than me.When he isn’t looking at me,I try to catch my reflectionon the wall. And I see the nail where a picture...
Die - you can't do that to a cat...Something doesn't startat its usual time.Something doesn't happenas it should.Someone was always, always here,
But in the language of poetry, where every word is weighed, nothing is usual or normal. Not a single stone and not a single cloud above it.
Así, por obra del azar, soy y miro. Una mariposa blanca aletea en el aire con alas que sólo a ella pertenecen, y una sombra sobrevuela mi mano, la suya, no otra, no de cualquiera. Ante hechos semejant...
شكراً لك يا قلبي/ لأنني استيقظتُ من جديد/ ولو أنّ اليوم هو الأحد/ يوم الراحة/ إلا أن تحت الضلوع/ تتواصل الحركة المعتادة لما قبل العيد
Някои обичат поезиятаНякои - обаче не всички.Даже не повечето, а по-малко.Без училищата, където я учат,и без самите поети,такива ще са едно на хиляда.
STARI PROFESORUpitala sam ga za stara dobra vremena,kada smo bili veoma mladi,naivni, ushićeni, glupi, nespremni.Malo je ostalo od toga, s izuzetkom mladosti- Odgovorio je.Pitala sam ga da li i dalje...
No he vivido más que tú, sino sólo lo bastante para pensar de lejos.
Ningún día se repite,ni dos noches son iguales,
I’ve wanted to write about them for a long while,but it’s a tricky subject,always put off for laterand perhaps worthy of a better poet,
I've wanted to write about them for a long while,but it's a tricky subject,always put off for laterand perhaps worthy of a better poet,even more stunned by the world than I.But time is short. I write.
I let myself be invented, modeled on my own reflection in his eyes. I dance, dance, dance in the stir of sudden wings. The
A che serve qui chiedersi
Memory Finally Memory’s finally found what it was after. My mother has turned up, my father has been spotted. I dreamed up a table and two chairs. They sat. They were mine again, alive again for me. T...
Las aves domésticas se distinguen de las de corral en que las guardamos en jaulas exclusivamente para satisfacer el placer estético. El nuestro, claro. Del placer que sienten las aves condenadas a ver...
Even if you bar my way,even if you stare me in the face,I'll pass you by on the chasm's edge, finer than a hair.