But from each crime are born bullets that will one day seek out in you where the heart lies.

Each in the most hidden sack kept the lost jewels of memory, intense love, secret nights and permanent kisses, the fragment of public or private happiness. A few, the wolves, collected thighs, other men loved the dawn scratching mountain ranges or ice floes, locomotives, numbers. For me happiness was to share singing, praising, cursing, crying with a thousand eyes. I ask forgiveness for my bad ways: my life had no use on earth.

I want to see the thirst inside the syllables I want to touch the fire in the sound: I want to feel the darkness of the cry. I want words as rough as virgin rocks.” - Verb.

so I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Till then my windows ache.

I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.

The road made wet by the water of August shines like it was cut in full moonlight

In one kiss, you'll know all I haven't said.