With which stars do they go on speaking,the rivers that never reach the sea?

I want to do with you what the spring does with the cherry trees.

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

The bare earth, plantless, waterless, is an immense puzzle. In the forests or beside rivers everything speaks to humans. The desert does not speak. I could not comprehend its tongue; its silence...

I don't want to go on being a root in the dark, vacillating, stretched out, shivering with sleep, downward, in the soaked guts of the earth, absorbing and thinking, eating each day.

There were thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and the ruins, and you were the miracle.

Sometimes a piece of sun burned like a coin in my hand.