Frenzied but firm
The colt of day charges
Into the mouth of spring and the birds chatter
With the clear sky in their voices
The initial form woman took was the braided throats of two dinosaurs.
Later, time changed and woman changed too.
She became smaller, more lithe, more in keeping with the two-masted (in some countries three-masted)
ships that float on the misfortune of making a living.
They took away her toys and lover. Well then she bowed her head and almost died. But the thirteen destinies like
her fourteen years smote the fleeing calamities. No one spoke. No one ran to protect her against the overseas
sharks which had already cast an evil shadow over her like a fly staring with malice on a diamond or a land
enchanted. And so the story was heartlessly forgotten as always happens when a forest ranger forgets his
Insight Of Morning Hours
The dove of our heartbeat spreads it around
The tears of rivers flow always
They are tears of unconcealable happiness
O the breasts of youth
O the pallid waters of the fig-eaters
The cobblestones echo with the steps of morning people
Thicket of strength with your scarlet trees