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?