I believed that the way passed through Man, and that it was from there that destiny had to emerge.

Then I speak to her in a language she has never heard, I speak to her in Spanish, in the tongue of the long, crepuscular verses of Díaz Casanueva; in that language in which Joaquín Edwards preaches nationalism. My discourse is profound; I speak with eloquence and seduction; my words, more than from me, issue from the warm nights, from the many solitary nights on the Red Sea, and when the tiny dancer puts her arm around my neck, I understand that she understands. Magnificent language!

I stood on the balcony dark with mourning... hoping the earth would spread its wings in my uninhabited love.

with your name on my mouth and a kiss that never broke away from yours.

Pale blind diver, luckless slinger, lost discoverer, in you everything sank!

As slippery as smooth grapes, words exploding in the light like dormant seeds waiting in the vaults of vocabulary, alive again, and giving life: once again the heart distills them.

Conspirators in pajamas who exchange deep kisses for passwords.