I am everybody and every time, I always call myself by your name.
And here am I, budding among the ruins with only sorrow to bite on, as if weeping were a seed and I the earth's only furrow.
I was the owner of my own darkness.
Megaphone in which the wind passes singing.
I want to do for you what the spring does for the cherry trees
For now I ask no more Than the justice of eating.