My duty moves along with my song: I am I am not: that is my destiny. I exist not if I do not attend to the pain of those who suffer: they are my pains. For I cannot be without existing for all, for all who are silent and oppressed, I come from the people and I sing for them: my poetry is song and punnishment.

We bear the sole, relentless tenderness.

Like a jar you housed the infinite tenderness, and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar.

What will they say about my poetry who never touched my blood?

I love you only because it's you the one I love; I hate you deeply, and hating you Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south? Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.

You are like nobody since I love you.