Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.
Love is a clash of lightnings
I have never thought of my life as divided between poetry and politics.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
What did the tree learn from the earth to be able to talk with the sky?
Where were you then? Who else was there? Saying what? Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly when I am sad and feel you are far away?