Where were you then? Who else was there? Saying what? Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly when I am sad and feel you are far away?

For me writing is like breathing. I could not live without breathing and I could not live without writing.

Tomorrow we will only give them a leaf of the tree of our love, a leaf which will fall on the earth like if it had been made by our lips like a kiss which falls from our invincible heights to show the fire and the tenderness of a true love.

So the freshness lives on in a lemon, in the sweet-smelling house of the rind, the proportions, arcane and acerb.

I move in the university of the waves.

We came by night to the Fortunate Isles, And lay like fish Under the net of our kisses.

Under your skin the moon is alive.