I wanted to write the most beautiful poem but that is impossible; the world has written its own.

Through words to the meaning of thoughts with no words.

A smiling lie is a whirlwind, easy to enter, but hard to escape.

We forget old stories, but those stories remain the same.

It is not possible to express the most precious insights, To see all that craves to be seen, To visit even the closest neighbors in the universe, To learn all that needs to be learned, To live without dying, And I am sad about it. But I lived And I am happy about that.

Everybody talks, but there is no conversation.

History will be erased in the universal purgatory.