1
She pressed her ear against the shell:
she wanted to hear everything
he never told her.
2
A single inch
separates their two bodies
facing one another
in the picture:
a framed smile
buried beneath the rubble.
3
Whenever you throw stones
into the sea
it sends ripples through me.
4
My heart’ s quite small:
that’ s why it fills so quickly.
5
Water needs no wars
to mix with water
and fill up spaces.
6
O my Lord,
if I worship you
from fear of hell, burn me in hell.
If I worship you
from hope of Paradise, bar me from its gates.
But if I worship you
for yourself alone, grant me then the beauty of your Face.
Don’ t believe our outlines, forget them
and begin from your own words.
As if you are the first to write poetry
or the last poet.
If you read our work, let it not be an extension of our airs,
but to correct our errs
in the book of agony.
Don’ t ask anyone: Who am I?
You know who your mother is.
As for your father, be your own.
Truth is white, write over it
with a crow’ s ink.
Truth is black, write over it
with a mirage’ s light.
If you want to duel with a falcon
soar with the falcon.
God save America,
My home, sweet home!
We are not hostages, America,
and your soldiers are not God's soldiers...
We are the poor ones, ours is the earth of the drowned gods,
the gods of bulls,
the gods of fires,
the gods of sorrows that intertwine clay and blood in a song...
We are the poor, ours is the god of the poor,
who emerges out of farmers' ribs,
hungry
and bright,
and raises heads up high...
Last night, as half asleep I dreaming lay,
Half naked came she in her little shift,
With tilted glass, and verses on her lips;
Narcissus-eyes all shining for the fray,
Filled full of frolic to her wine-red lips,
Warm as a dewy rose, sudden she slips
Into my bed – just in her little shift.
