“I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.”

I am a book of snow, a spacious hand, an open meadow, a circle that waits, I belong to the earth and its winter.

To feel the affection that comes from those whom we do not know, widens out the boundaries of our being, and unites all living things.

Everything is ceremony in the wild garden of childhood.

To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds our life.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

So I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

You are like nobody since I love you.

In the house of poetry nothing endures that is not written with blood to be heard with blood.

But I love your feet only because they walked upon the earth and upon the wind and upon the waters, until they found me.

I’m not me but living matter fermenting and forming its own shapes in the fruitfulness of every day.

I believed that the way passed through Man, and that it was from there that destiny had to emerge.

For me writing is like breathing. I could not live without breathing and I could not live without writing.

Your wide eyes are the only light I know from extinguished constellations.

Someday, somewhere – anywhere, unfailingly, you’ll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.

Like them you are tall and taciturn, and you are sad, all at once, like a voyage.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

You shine bright but not everyone can handle the light don’t dim down from the rebound.

I know that she is beautiful and I like to remind her again and again.

I can cheat my heart, soul, and mind. If you become my life.

If you allowed it, I’d break all the rules.

How much good inside a day? Depends on how good you live ’em. How much love inside a friend? Depends on how much you give ’em.

You don’t need to search for love when you’re your own soulmate.

Plant the seeds of love and in time fruits will blossom.

Here I am: a sight to behold.