When did the lemons learn the same creed as the sun?

Your wide eyes are the only light I know from extinguished constellations.

Like them you are tall and taciturn, and you are sad, all at once, like a voyage.

I am a book of snow, a spacious hand, an open meadow, a circle that waits, I belong to the earth and its winter.

Sufre mas el que espera siempre que aquel que nunca espero a nadie? Does he who is always waiting suffer more than he who’s never waited for anyone?

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.

Place gifts of silver in our hands. Give us this day our daily fish.