Girl lithe and tawny, the sun that forms the fruits, that plumps the grains, that curls seaweeds filled your body with joy, and your luminous eyes and your mouth that has the smile of the water. A black yearning sun is braided into the strands of your black mane, when you stretch your arms. You play with the sun as with a little brook and it leaves two dark pools in your eyes.

I will bring you flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses. I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

Love is short, but forgetting is long.

Place gifts of silver in our hands. Give us this day our daily fish.

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

We must dream our way.

In what language does rain fall over tormented cities?