Oda a la cebolla

Cebolla, luminosa redoma,
petalo a petalo
se formo tu hermosura,
escamas de cristal te acrecentaron
y en el secreto de la tierra oscura
se redondeo tu vientre de rocio.
Bajo la tierra
fue el milagro
y cuando aparecio
tu torpe tallo verde,
y nacieron
tus hojas como espadas en el huerto,
la tierra acumulo su poderio
mostrando tu desnuda ( Read more... )

From William Wordsworth's Home at Grasmere:

While yet an innocent little one, with a heart
That doubtless wanted not its tender moods,
I breathed (for this I better recollect)
Among wild appetites and blind desires,
Motions of savage instinct my delight
And exaltation. Nothing at that time
So welcome, no temptation half so dear
As that which urged me to ( Read more... )

There are places on this earth
too hot for dwelling,

even the descendents of
Yaweh Elohim

are tempted by their shadows,
which resemble in

this case errant cousins or
manifestations

of delirium brought on
by the heat and its

source which is prevented from
touching the scorched soil

by no local body but 
His; a shadow cast.

Colours
When your face 
appeared over my crumpled life
at first I understood
only the poverty of what I have.
Then its particular light
on woods, rivers, on the sea,
became my beginning in the coloured world
in which I had not yet had my beginning.
I am so frightened, I am so frightened,
of the unexpected sunrise finishing,
of revelations
and tears and the ( Read more... )

La Sombra de mi alma ( Read more... )