And of me say the fools: I entered the lodges of women And never left. And they call for my hanging, Because about the matters of my beloved I, poetry, compose. I never traded Like others...
I conquer the world with words, conquer the mother tongue, verbs, nouns, syntax. I sweep away the beginning of things and with a new language that has the music of water the message of fire...
I do not resemble your other lovers, my lady should another give you a cloud I give you rain Should he give you a lantern, I will give you the moon Should he give you a branch...