“Do tears not yet spilled wait in small lakes?”

“Las lagrimas que no se lloran Esperan en pequenos lagos?Do tears not yet spilled wait in small lakes?O seran rios invisibles Que corren hacia la tristeza?Or are they invisible riversthat run toward sadness?”

“This time is difficult, wait for me:we will live it out vividly.Give me your small hand:we will rise and suffer,we will feel and rejoice.We are once more the pairwho lived in bristling places,in harsh nests in the rock.This time is difficult, wait for mewith a basket, with a shovel,with your shoes and your clothes.Now we need each othernot only for the carnations' sake,not only to look for honey:we need our handsto wash with and to make fire,and so let our difficult timestand up to infinitywith four hands and four eyes.”

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

“I do not love you except because I love you;I go from loving to not loving you,From waiting to not waiting for youMy heart moves from cold to fire.I love you only because it's you the one I love;I hate you deeply, and hating youBend to you, and the measure of my changing love for youIs that I do not see you but love you blindly.Maybe January light will consumeMy heart with its cruelRay, stealing my key to true calm.In this part of the story I am the one whoDies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.”

“I love all things, not only the grand but the infinitely small: thimble, spurs, plates, flower vases.....”

“I had no more alphabetthan the journeying of the swallows,the pure and tiny waterof the small, fiery birdthat dances rising from the pollen.”