The importance of poetry is not measured, finally, by what the poet says but by how he says it.

We are captives, even if our wheat grows over the fences/ and swallows rise from our broken chains./ We are captives of what we love, what we desire, and what we are.

Every beautiful poem is an act of resistance.

The poem is in my hands, and can run stories through her hands.

My love, I fear the silence of your hands.

We suffer from an incurable malady: Hope.

One day, I will be a poet. Water will depend on my visions.