To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves. - Federico García Lorca

I'll go to Santiago.
And the banana tree a jellyfish.

Angel and Muse approach from without; the Angel sheds light and the Muse gives form (Hesiod learned of them). Gold leaf or chiton-folds: the poet finds his models in his laurel coppice. But the Duende, on the other hand, must come to life in the nethermost recesses of the blood.

Today in my heart
a vague trembling of stars
and all roses are
as white as my pain.