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Who is the perfect lover?
The vehemence of the wind
which destroys nature in its path?
or the silence of the night after the storm?
That's the lover in your bed
sometimes hurts, sometimes referred to.
Hard to cry in your lap
as no one lost.
Who are you, what are you?
that even the most destructive force
lies quiet like the wind free.
Who are you, what are you?
Inevitably to more cruel mistress
 is lying at your feet

Who is the perfect lover?
The vehemence of the wind
which destroys nature in its path?
or the silence of the night after the storm?
That's the lover in your bed
sometimes hurts, sometimes referred to.
Hard to cry in your lap
as no one lost.
Who are you, what are you?
that even the most destructive force
lies quiet like the wind free.
Who are you, what are you?
Inevitably to more cruel mistress
 is lying at your feet

What if God were a woman?
Maybe we came closer to his divine nakedness
to kiss his feet bronze
not stone her pubis,
no marble breasts,
plaster his lips.
If God were a woman would not be installed
far in the kingdom of heaven;
but we wait in the vestibule of hell,
with their arms not closed,
its not plastic pink
and his love of angels.
Oh God, my God
whether to always and forever
you were a woman
what scandal would be nice,
Ventura, gorgeous, impossible,
prodigious blasphemy.

                                Mario Benedetti

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 I am your slave
Besides accepting your company admit that I chained my soul,
but not to punishment but the most beautiful pleasure it is to your contemplation
Is then that in every movement and every word and I will present the concern and admiration of who adores you, but always with the head up and eyes open