About me, nothing worse they will tell you, my love, than what I told you
my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping but I shall go on living.
Peace goes into the making of a poem as flour goes into the making of bread.
Love, how many roads to obtain a kiss.
Como se reparten el sol en el naranjo las naranjas? How do the oranges divide up sunlight in the orange tree?
The night is shattered, and the blue stars shiver in the distance.