The Ripe FigNow that You live here in my chest,anywhere we sit is a mountaintop.And those other images,which have enchanted peoplelike porcelain dolls from China,which have made men and women weepfor centuries, even those have changed now.What used to be pain is a lovely benchwhere we can rest under the roses.A left hand has become a right.A dark wall, a window.A cushion in a shoe heel,the leader of the community!Now silence. What we sayis poison to someand nourishing to others.What we say is a ripe fig,but not every bird that flieseats figs.

Only love itself can explain love and lovers.

Is your face a beautiful blossom or a sweet torture? I have no complaints but my heart is tempted to let you hear of its sorrows.

My longing for you keeps me in this moment My passion gives me courage

Each and every part of the world is a snare for the fool and a means of deliverance for the wise.

We've given up making a living, its all this crazy love poetry now!

Your body is away from me, but there is a window open from my heart to yours.