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Octavio Paz

I follow my raving, rooms, streets,I grope my way through corridors of time,I climb and descend its stairs, I touchits walls and do not move, I go backto where I began, I search for your face,I walk through the streets of myselfunder an ageless sun, and by my sideyou walk like a tree, you walk… Continue reading Octavio Paz

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Octavio Paz

We are time and cannot escape its dominion. We can transfigure it but not deny it or destroy it. This is what the great artists, poets, philosophers, scientists, and certain men of action have done. Love, too, is an answer: because it is time and made of time, love is at once consciousness of death… Continue reading Octavio Paz

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Octavio Paz

Human love is the union of two beings subject to time and its accidents: change, sickness, death. Although it does not save us from time, it opens it a crack, so that in a flash love’s contradictory nature is manifest: that vivacity which endlessly destroys itself and is reborn, which is always both now and… Continue reading Octavio Paz

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Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Erotica · Existentialism · Latin-American Culture · Latin-American Literature · Mexican Culture · Mexican Literature · Passage · Poetry

Octavio Paz

We are time and cannot escape its dominion. We can transfigure it but not deny it or destroy it. This is what the great artists, poets, philosophers, scientists, and certain men of action have done. Love, too, is an answer: because it is time and made of time, love is at once consciousness of death… Continue reading Octavio Paz

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Octavio Paz

Memory invents another present.As it invents myself.                             What has been livedblurs with today.      — Octavio Paz, from “Preparatory Exercise,” A Tree Within, trans. Eliot Weinberger (New Directions, 1988)

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Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Existentialism · Latin-American Culture · Latin-American Literature · Mexican Culture · Mexican Literature · Passage · Poetry

Octavio Paz

To sleep to sleep in youor even better to wake                                   to open my eyesat your center                       black white blackwhite        To be the unsleeping sunyour memory ignites                              (andthe memory of me in your memory) — Octavio Paz, from “Maithuna,” Selected Poems, ed. Eliot Weinberger (New Directions, 1984) Deserve your dream. — Octavio Paz, from “Toward the… Continue reading Octavio Paz

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Octavio Paz

Aubade with a Book and the Rattle from a String of Pearls The color of the moon bleached the tops of treesand you left a book on the table, face downwith its spine reaching for air. I thought the book might hate you for that. With my pre-dawn coffeeand mouth full of sleep syllables I… Continue reading Octavio Paz

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