A child who does not play is not a child, but the man who doesn't play has lost forever the child who lived in him and who he will miss terribly.

As slippery as smooth grapes, words exploding in the light like dormant seeds waiting in the vaults of vocabulary, alive again, and giving life: once again the heart distills them.

In you is the illusion of each day. You arrive like the dew to the cupped flowers. You undermine the horizon with your absence. Eternally in flight like the wave.

Pale blind diver, luckless slinger, lost discoverer, in you everything sank!

Cómo se acuerda con los pájaros la traducción de sus idiomas?

I am everybody and every time, I always call myself by your name.

What did the tree learn from the earth to be able to talk with the sky?