I discovered this great Mexican poet some time ago, and bought two of his poetry books, though until recently they remained scarcely opened on my shelf. These from Selected Poems:
The hand of day opens
And these few words
He tried to sing, singing
not to remember
his true life of lies
and to remember
his lying life of truths.
I love the choice of 'and' rather than 'but' in the last poem. Finally, to continue the 'nobody' theme of my last post:
A long and silent street
I walk in blackness and I stumble and fall
and rise, and I walk blind, my feet
stepping on silent stones and dry leaves.
Someone behind me also stepping on stones, leaves:
if I slow down, he slows;
if I run, he runs. I turn: nobody.
Everything dark and doorless.
Turning and turning among these corners
which lead forever to the street
where nobody waits for, nobody follows me,
where I pursue a man who stumbles
and rises when he sees me: nobody