... For me it is essential, essential for the poet to have a new toast, new songs.
My homeland is not a suitcase, and I am no traveller
She does not love you. Your metaphors thrill her you are her poet. But that's all there's to it.
We are captives of what we love, what we desire, and what we are.
We suffer from an incurable malady: Hope.
One day, I will be a poet. Water will depend on my visions.