The Spouse

by: Luis Dato

Rose in her hand and moist eyes young with weeping,

She stands upon the threshold of her house,

Fragrant with scent that wakens love from sleeping,

She looks far down to where her husband plows.


Her hair disheveled in the night of passion,

Her warm limbs humid with the sacred strife,

What may she know what man and woman fashion

Out of the day of ire and sorrow – Life?


She holds no joys behind the day’s tomorrow,

She finds no worlds beyond her love’s embrace,

She looks upon the form behind the furrow,

Who is her Mind, her Motion, Time and Space.


O sombre mystery of eyes unspeaking,

O dark enigma of life’s love forlorn;

The Sphinx beside the river smiles with seeking

The sacred answer since the world was born.


And If The Heart Can Not Love

by: Jose Garcia Villa

And if the hear can not love

death can not cure it nor sleep

no splendor of wound the heart

had no sound.


Bloom has escaped it and

birth the miraculous flower

and music and speech leave

it unbewitched


God it can not spell nor sun

nor lover the beautiful word

and it has no sound no sound

nor wound