GARCIA VILLA, José


I shall talk to you

I shall talk to you through trees,

through the arms of dancers,

through sweet words uttered by many lovers.

The arms of dancers round you shall be my arms.

The eyes of men admiring you shall be my eyes.

I have many arms, many eyes.

It is that, loving you, I have become many lovers


In my desire to be Nude

In my desire to be Nude

I clothed myself in fire: —

Burned down my walls, my roof,

Burned all these down.

Emerged myself supremely lean

Unsheathed like a holy knife.

With only His Hand to find

To hold me beyond annul.

And found Him found Him found Him

Found the Hand to hold me up!

He held me like a burning poem

And waved me all over the world.


Invisible

My body is a bottle of white glass:

why has not somebody poured red whine into me

that I should become beautiful?

My body is a green leaf:

why have I not dried, that I should blow away

to infinity, with many winds?