“You may forget but let me tell you this: someone in some future time will think of us.”

Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables.

Now the Earth with many flowers puts on her spring embroidery.

The Moon and Pleiades have set, Midnight is nigh, The time is passing, passing, yet Alone I lie.

I would not think to touch the sky with two arms

In gold sandals / dawn like a thief / fell upon me.

What cannot be said will be wept.

Someone, I tell you, in another time will remember us.

Once again love drives me on, that loosener of limbs, bittersweet creature against which nothing can be done.

Dancing up the full moon Round some fair new altar Trample the soft blossoms of fine grass.

When anger spreads through the breath, guard thy tongue from barking idly.

No honey for me, if it comes with a bee.

Whatever one loves most is beautiful.

For some the fairest thing on the dark earth is Thermopylae, And the Spartan phalanx lowering lances to die.

All the while, believe me, I prayed our night would last twice as long.

Would Jove appoint some flower to reign, in matchless beauty on the plain, the Rose (mankind will all agree). The Rose the queen of flowers should be.

If you are squeamish Don’t prod the beach rubble.