Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

And I, infinitesima­l being, drunk with the great starry void, likeness, image of mystery, I felt myself a pure part of the abyss, I wheeled with the stars, my heart broke loose on the wind.

I am made of earth, and my song made of words.

I move in the university of the waves.

I want to do for you what the spring does for the cherry trees

While I'm writing, I'm far away; and when I come back, I've gone.