You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.

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

Once more I am the silent one who came out of the distance wrapped in cold rain and bells: I owe to earth's pure death the will to sprout.

When your hands leap towards mine, love, what do they bring me in flight?

I have never thought of my life as divided between poetry and politics.

I stroll along serenely, with my eyes, my shoes, my rage, forgetting everything, I walk by, going through office buildings and orthopedic shops, and courtyards with washing hanging from the line: underwear, towels and shirts from which slow dirty tears are falling.

White bee, even when you are gone you buzz in my soul You live again in time, slender and silent.