The one that burned the hottest is the first to die.

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.

For the spell is older than experience. For the tale is older than the record.

My verses are my diary. My poetry is a poetry of proper names.

Don't you know no one can escape the power of creatures reaching out with breath alone?

No one has ever stepped twice into the same river. But did anyone ever step twice into the same book?

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