What is the main thing in love? to know and to hide. To know about the one you love and to hide that you love. At times the hiding (shame) overpowers the knowing (passion). The passion for the hidden - the passion for the revealed.

I opened my veins. Unstoppably life spurts out with no remedy. Now I set out bowls and plates. Every bowl will be shallow. Every plate will be small. And overflowing their rims, into the black earth, to nourish the rushes unstoppably without cure, gushes poetry.

Women talk about love and silent about lovers, men - on the contrary: Speaking of mistresses, but are silent about love.

However much you feed a wolf, it always looks to the forest. We are all wolves of the dense forest of Eternity.

Who sleeps at night? No one is sleeping.
 In the cradle a child is screaming.
 An old man sits over his death, and anyone
 young enough talks to his love, breathes 
into her lips, looks into her eyes.

Meanings are translatable. Words are untranslatable… More briefly – a word is translatable, its sound is not.

How quiet the writing, how noisy the printing.