Intense love always leads to mourning.
The unsaid, for me, exerts great power.
What was difficult was the travel, which, on arrival, is forgotten.
At first I saw you everywhere. Now only in certain things, at longer intervals.
Desire, loneliness, wind in the flowering almond— surely these are the great, the inexhaustible subjects to which my predecessors apprenticed themselves. I hear them echo in my own heart, disguised as convention.
The advantage of poetry over life is that poetry, if it is sharp enough, may last.