Below, two more poems from Juan Sánchez Peláez's first book Elena y los elementos (1951):
Acclimate the blessed carriage of your breasts,
earth of my first voices,
their open wounds, their punished gavilanes
in the snow storm.
A woman named Blanca manipulates
mystery's scarlet cage
Overcomes limits, an obscure power.
She screams, imagines, feels?
She weaves a thick shell of sea breeze, alleviates
The pale girl leads me to a ruined garden.
I see her naked, beneath a grand suburb of palm trees,
exporting the sunset's gold toward a miraculous country.
The heavy hour has returned.
The heavy harbors of your eyes orbit me.
You must disseminate yourself, body and spirit,
in the mellifluous inheritance of the roses.
Laundry women in their white tunics pass by
my side with their innocence cloth
and their hands given over to ceremony.
Seagulls devour thick slabs in my caresses.
The world weighs maliciously and solemnly in my roots.
I accept your hands, your grace, my delirium.
If you return, if you dream, your image at night will recognize me.
I place you on the path toward the bell-ring talud of my veins.
Drenched in magic, my blood flows
toward you beneath dawn's prophecy.