America, give heed: this is no flight of herons nor of angels… Those are wings which cover the broad skyline, piercing the clouds, challenging the winds:
i feel like i have lived a thousand years, i said to moon when she was fat and full, when she grew dark i knelt and bled my tears from wounds called eyes into a silver bowl.
Tan tin tin tan — the celesta hammers away. Here I turn off the light, and darkness drinks me in. I lie like one immured but still permitted to breathe. I lie like one to be crucified whom nobody will nail to the cross. I lie and wait.
Are you leaving for the countryside, my dear friend! What gift can I offer you upon your departure…? Only a sad and tender farewell Is all my love can give you, sweet María!