And I, infinitesima­l being, drunk with the great starry void, likeness, image of mystery, I felt myself a pure part of the abyss, I wheeled with the stars, my heart broke loose on the wind.

with your name on my mouth and a kiss that never broke away from yours.

so I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Look around—there's only one thing of danger for you here—poetry.

La heradera del dia destruida. (The heiress of the destroyed day.)

Love is brief: forgetting lasts so long.

Your house sounds like a train at midday, the wasps buzz, the saucepans sing, the waterfall enumerates the deeds of the dew . . .