El poeta dice la verdad [English translation]

I want to cry my sorrow and I tell it to you

for you to love me and cry for me

in a nightfall of nightingales

with a dagger, with kisses and with you.

I want to kill the only witness

for the murder of my flowers

and to turn my crying and my sweat

into an endless pile of durum wheat.

May never run out the skein

of I love you, you love me, always burnt

with decreipt sun and old moon.

What you don't give me and I don't ask

will be for death, that doesn't leave

neither a shadow for the thrilled flesh.