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What meadows you gallop distracted
and what hills are yours
when you love me?
Where do you want to stay
when you rest?
If they are fissures where you look out when you look at me
you never felt at home
street or religion
Infinity has windows
in my eyelids
where the passage is safe
I tell you not to enter through my ears
nor my neck
nor rejoice if you see hawks in my memory
at times they search for me
on my high terraces
but they do not stay to die
they seek only words in my mouth
to get drunk
and they leave where ingratitude does not pass.
High are my paradises
and their gates sealed
A language has a vigor
that makes whirlpools
Go through them with faith
Go against the deep sleep
lift it up
because it is necessary to relieve my mouth
of that kiss of yours
of that lip of yours
of your humidity
that vaguely names
my territory
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