When I sleep every night, what am I called or not called? And when I wake, who am I if I was not I while I slept?

Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain. I love you still among these cold things. Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels that cross the sea towards no arrival. I see myself forgotten like those old anchors. The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there. My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose. I love what I do not have. You are so far. My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights. But night comes and starts to sing to me.

To feel the affection that comes from those whom we do not know ... widens out the boundaries of our being, and unites all living things.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.

I need the sea because it teaches me

As if you were on fire from within. The moon lives in the lining of your skin.

Death arrives among all that sound like a shoe with no foot in it, like a suit with no man in it, comes and knocks, using a ring with no stone in it, with no finger in it, comes and shouts with no mouth, with no tongue,with no throat. Nevertheless its steps can be heard and its clothing makes a hushed sound, like a tree.