Absence is a house so vast that inside you will pass through its walls and hang pictures on the air.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.

Shyness is a condition foreign to the heart - a category, a dimension which leads to loneliness.

But when I call for a hero, out comes my lazy old self; so I never know who I am, nor how many I am or will be. I'd love to be able to touch a bell and summon the real me, because if I really need myself, I mustn't disappear.

Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.

Without doubt I praise the wild excellence.

Girl lithe and tawny, the sun that forms the fruits, that plumps the grains, that curls seaweeds filled your body with joy, and your luminous eyes and your mouth that has the smile of the water. A black yearning sun is braided into the strands of your black mane, when you stretch your arms. You play with the sun as with a little brook and it leaves two dark pools in your eyes.