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

I love you only because it’s you the one I love; I hate you deeply, and hating you Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Hour of nostalgia, hour of happiness, hour of solitude.

Love, how many roads to obtain a kiss.

Let us forget with generosity those who cannot love us.

The night is shattered, and the blue stars shiver in the distance.

Give me silence, water, hope. Give me struggle, iron, volcanoes.

Death is the stone into which our oblivion hardens.

Love is the mystery of water and a star.

It was my destiny to love and say goodbye.

My feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping but I shall go on living.

If nothing saves us from death, at least love should save us from life.

While I’m writing, I’m far away; and when I come back, I’ve gone.

The birds of night peck at the first stars that flash like my soul when I love you.

Peace goes into the making of a poem as flour goes into the making of bread.

In one kiss, you’ll know all I haven’t said.

Love! Love until the night collapses!