Francisco Urondo Poems

I have heard the winter sun. It grows casting layers, tightly around its heart; it shakes its sleep, unfurls the feather coat it wears: looks on as shapes of its idols fall one by one away.
...

I am left with only a few friends and those here
are usually far and I am left
an aftertaste I keep within close reach
...

Going forth, the mud comes up to our hips, calming
some uncertainties, giving rise to others. We move
around new pools.
...

A washbowl has shown me
the face of my future. There are no complications
or demons past my exhaustion, no consular
...

All I ask is that we leave this park,
its munitions, its reproaches for our going there
as if we wore too-amusing masks
...

My grandfather had a good heart
and some men, competent.
He had a pair of bodyguards
...

It seems a lie
that I'm to blame for everything
that has happened in the world
...

Dreams make the freed gulls visible. With the bone of your eyes-it's your heart that burns, behind, along with the scrublands.
...

Careful with the heat
and the taste; with
hopes ill-
...

The balconies of the Aranjuez, the silks
that come to rest on the green river: I stretch myself
like a column and enter your underskirts, fan
...