My blood is like a river that brings me landscapes both reflected and erased, landscapes from other shores I have never seen.

It is like a long, mysterious river I feel flowing within me and whose name I shall ignore.

It comes from a depth so remote I am afraid to look into it. It goes I know not where, and meanwhile, passes like a river dragging sand, flowers, and remnants of me myself, prisoner of a flow without meaning.

Dulce Maria Loynaz